


Whenever it's right (AKA First Date)

by Aliea



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst, Big Brother Mycroft, Coma, Explosions, Hospitals, I'm Sorry, John is a Very Good Doctor, London Underground, M/M, Mind Palace, Mind Palace John, Mycroft Being a Good Brother, Past Drug Use, Seriously Sherlock is really hurt, Sherlock Whump, Sorry Not Sorry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-24
Updated: 2017-05-01
Packaged: 2018-06-04 04:21:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 26,493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6641254
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aliea/pseuds/Aliea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Meeting the person you have been searching for all your life, never knowing that you have been searching until its over and you have them before you.</p><p>What happens when you fall in love at first sight then everything goes to hell? Do you stay or go, take the risk or run for the hills.</p><p>John has has never ran from anything, so he wasnt going to run from the man that changed his life in less than five seconds.</p><p>Warning: Read Tags! The first chapter is a bit dark, and relates slightly  to recent events in Brussels. So be warned (date tag for 2016 Brussels attack)</p><p> </p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This has come from a dark place within me. Its had been in the making for a few weeks now. I'm not sure if there will be another chapter, and when said chapter will be written. But this needed out of my system and now I hope I can carry on with my other fics.
> 
> Title changed, idea from MycroftsBrollyAt221B!

The underground train was packed, just as it always was, packed and hot and damn, would those kids just turn off their stupid music!

John was fed up, his day had been long, boring, and all he wanted was to get home have a shower and then possibly find some silence in the bottom of his whisky bottle. Life had taken a turn for him when he had gotten himself shot, it put an end to his career not only as an army doctor but as a surgeon. His hands were his tools, made him what he was, but now he was nothing, just a man, on the train, wanting to get home and just sleep.

As the train stopped at the next station people flooded off and John took the first chance to grab an empty seat, his leg thanking him as he took his weight from it. Relaxing slightly he looked up and down the cab as people filed on, squeezing into ever space available. It was then that he saw him, the man with the dark curls, with clear crystal eyes,  and skin so pale it almost glowed against the dark material of his coat.

John stared openly, the man was stunning, he was captivating in a way that no other could possibly hope to be and when he turned and looked straight at John the world went silent.

Feeling himself tense slightly John went to look away, he really did but the man seemed intent to keep them both connected. Slowly a small smile formed on the others lips and John couldn't help it, he smiled back.

That was when the world went to hell.

The train suddenly launched and tilted before the sound of an explosion reached his ears and then the lights went out and people started to scream at the same time that a fire ball started to make its way up through the cab.

Turning, John searched out the man, his eyes finding him as the fire lit his pale skin and dark curls.

"No!" John screamed and dashed through the crowed that was heading away from the fire.

Pushing his way through the crowed, forgetting about his leg, he battled his way to the man with the most amazing eyes. 

He was halfway there when another explosion sounded, this time from behind him, and the screaming stopped, as did the motion of people. Only John seemed to be moving, seemed to be the only one functioning.

As he reached the area he had seen the man, the fire had died down slightly and he was stood amongst people led on the ground. 

The lights flickered above him showing him torn apart body parts and burnt skin, it also showed blood and so much more that he really didn't want to think about it and it was only because of his training that kept him from running in the opposite direction.

Moaning and cries started to fill the carriage as people came to, as they started to feel, as the adrenaline subsided and the pain hit full on.

John stood still just listening, before he started to make his way through the people, once again searching. He was close to were the man had been standing when something grabbed his leg.

Looking down he saw a woman with blond hair, covered in blood and with green wide eyes.

"Help." She whispered and John reacted instinctively. Going down he quickly did an assessment and then got to work. He started with ripping strips from his shirt and wrapping one tightly around the woman's left arm, which was currently missing from just above the elbow, and he needed to slow, if not stop the bleeding. He then wrapped another strip around her left leg, a large piece of metal was in bedded within the thigh but all he could do was stabilise it.

"Ok, I...I need to find someone. I'll be right back."

"No...please..." she begged as he went to stand. "Please..."

John frowned and looked up, he needed to go, he needed to find Him.

"I promise I will be back. Just hold tight." He said brushing back some blond hair and giving her a small smile. "I promise, okay?"

He couldn't believe he was leaving her, but he just couldn't stay and not look.

Standing he slowly made his way through the bodies and people before coming across the black coat.

Falling to his knees he quickly found the man's neck and pressed his fingers to the pulse point.

"Please...please..." He whispered 

And when he felt the pulse, week but there, he felt like crying.

Leaning in closer, he brushed back curls to find the pale skin he had been sure that glowed earlier and to eyes that were open and watching him.

"Oh god, your awake." The eyes flicked up to his but the man said nothing.

"Okay...are you hurt?" John asked, knowing he probably was, but John had yet to look.

The man continued to look at him but said nothing so John started to check him over.

"So just try not to move and I'll check you over."

A scream sounded down the other end of the carriage causing John to look up and for the first time, took in the whole carriage. People's were still moving about, helping those that they could, while some where helping others off the carriage and into the underground tunnel, getting as far from the smoke and fire as possible.

Looking back down at the man John felt as though he was back in the desert, assessing those around him and doing what he could to help. But his main priority for some unknown reason was the man he was currently looking over.

He found no missing or broken limbs, no wound to his back or head. From this position the man looked totally unharmed. Going back to look at the man, John once again pushed back curls.

"You took the hit on the front didn't you?" The man blinked once. "You are currently stemming what ever bleeding you have by keeping yourself pinned to the floor." Again the man blinked once.

"Okay...here is what needs to be done. You may be stopping the bleeding at this moment in time, but gravity will be working against us, and pretty soon you will start to bleed out unless I get you onto your back. I don't think you have broke your back or neck, you still have complete feeling." The man blinked, indicating that he did. "Okay, so I need to turn you."

John took a breath and started to move the man's arms and legs so that is was easier to turn him. Once he was done he looked back at him.

"Ready...right...one...two..." John moved Him and turned him onto his back. A small scream of pain left the man's lips and long pale fingers lifted and pressed to his chest. "Oh...fuck." John pulled off his coat and quickly bundled it up and pressed it hard to the man's  abdomen causing another scream of pain. "Sorry, I'm so sorry." 

"Bad..." the man whispered and John was taken back by how deep his voice was even in a whisper.

"I...yeah. But it will be okay, I  promise it will be just fine."

"Liar." John looked down at the man and couldn't help but smile.

"Yeah. But I won't let you die so at least trust in that."

"I...fine...trust a man I've never met."

"I wouldn't say that, we met, you know, about five seconds before this all happened." 

The man smiled causing John to smile back.

"It's gone quiet." The man said turning his head slightly.

"Yeah...oh shit!" John looked across the dark cab to where he had left the woman trying to pick her out amongst the debris.

"What?" The man's voice shook slightly.

"Sorry...sorry I didn't mean to frighten you. I left someone to come look for you. Told her I would be back to help."

"You...go." 

John gave up and looked back down at the man. "No, I wont leave you."

"...fine...I'm fine."

"No, okay look. I'm a-"

"Doctor, formally an...army Doctor. Currently living in London after being...invalid after being shot...oh god..." the man's eyes squeezed shut and his hand found John's wrist gripping it hard. "You should go...go to her..."

"That was...how did you know all that?"

"Worked it...before...all this."

"That was amazing."

"Really?"

"Yeah, quite extraordinary really."

"Most...just-" Blood suddenly bubbled on the man's lips and John just brushed his thumb over it, brushing it away, but when the man started to talk again John saw his mouth was full of it. "They just...tell me to...piss off."

"Then they are stupid."

"Ag...reed." 

They were silent for a bit, just staring at each other as they just continued to breath, all the while more blood escaped the man's mouth.

"I'm dying." The deep voice suddenly whispered.

"You're bleeding internally as well as externally." John stated not wanting to lie, knowing the man would see right through it. "If I had my bag..." John shook his head as his voice caught.

"She-" coughing the man winced and once he was done blood slatted his chin and hand. Lying back he looked at his hand for a moment before looking back to John. "Sherlock."

"Sherlock? Your name? It's Sherlock?"

"Yes."

"John, I'm John."

"Pleasure." Sherlock said with a smile before his eyes fluttered close.

"No...no! Sherlock, I need you awake, so open your eyes!"

Sherlock’s eyes opened, only for a few seconds, before they closed again and the hand still holding John's wrist lossened slightly.

"Sherlock please, please open your eyes. Please." John lifted one of his hands and gently shook at Sherlock’s shoulder. "Sherlock!"

"Tired."

"Oh thank god." John moaned as Sherlock opened his eyes. "I know, I really do. But you need to stay awake."

"Anyone in there!" A voice behind John shouted and a couple of voice answered, including John's.

"Here!" John shouted raising a hand as a beam of light landed on him.

Several medical personal climbed into the cab searching out those that had shouted while one made his way over to John.

"No there is a woman, over there...lost her arm, I stemmed the bleeding as best I could."

The man looked at John then down at Sherlock who had closed his eyes again.

"What about him?"

John looked down and then shook his head slightly. "Leave me some of your stuff, I'm a doctor. I will do everything that I can."

The paramedic nodded and dropped his bag before opening it and pulling out things to help John.

"I'll be back or will send another over when I can."

"Thank you." The paramedic left and John went about opening things with one hand and his teeth, he then stared to pack the wide open hole in Sherlock’s abdomen. 

"John!" Sherlock tried to grab at John's hands, trying in vain to stop what was happening.

"It's okay, you can sleep now, pass out....please just pass out!" John quietly said as he ran out of packing gauze. Pulling his jumper off he folded it and pressed it over the wound before taking the medical tape and taping it down.

"J...John."

"It's okay." John cleaned his fingers and hands as best he could on his shirt before leaning down and gently running his fingers through tangled curls. "I've got you."

Crystal eyes opened, freeing a few tears as they did so, and just looked at John as though he was everything.

"This is not right." Sherlock got out.

"No, it's not."

"We...not like this." John smiled sadly.

"No, definitely another way, walking through a park, through town, at a coffee shop, book shop, anything other than this." John lent further down and just pressed his lips to Sherlock’s temple so when he spoke again it was against soft, still warm skin. "Anything other than this."

John felt Sherlock’s hand against the side of his head, his long fingers brushing his hair. Lifting slightly he pushed his head into that hand and felt tears burning his eyes.

"Hey." The paramedic returned then dropping his bag and started to cut the rest of the shirt from Sherlock.

John shifted as Sherlock dropped his hand, both of them turning their attention to the other man.

"The girl?" John asked, the answer coming in a shake of the head.

Closing his eyes, John clenched his fists and just concentrated on his breathing.

"Not your fault mate, I would have done the same if my partner was injured." The paramedic offered, which caused John to open his eyes and stare a moment.

"He's not-"

"First date." Sherlock interupted, smiling through blood stained lips up at John. 

"Yeah...blind date at that." John added his hand once again stroking through curls.

The paramedic looked between the two and smiled. "Perfect match it would seem. Second date on the cards?"

John suddenly smiled. "Yes, hospital food and painkillers."

"Sounds...p...p...perfect." Sherlock hand clenched at John's wrist again as his body started to shake and the monitor the paramedic had hooked up to Sherlock went off.

"His heart is struggling." A mask was pulled from the bag and placed over Sherlock’s mouth, the paramedic also pulled out medication which he quickly administered.

"Morphine and adrenaline." The paramedic offered John. "Teams are being assembled to get people out, we are just the first wave. I'll put him on the priority list. We need him out and into surgery soon, possibility in the next hour."

"Agreed." John nodded. "I've packed the wound as best I can, that will help with the external bleeding, possibly with the internal if I was able to put enough in the right place."

"But that is highly unlikely." 

"Yeah, I...its dark."

"Its okay. You did the best you can." The paramedic offered a reasurring smile. "As first dates go, that's all you can do."

The monitor silenced as the medication took affect. 

John glanced down at Sherlock, finding the man's eyes closed.

"Sherlock?" John asked leaning down more.

"He's passed out." The paramedic offered as he read off the monitor.

"Probably for the best." John muttered.

"Yeah, it's going to hurt when we move him." He looked up and smiled brightly. "Which will be any minute now."

John looked towards the only open door and sighed in relief as stretchers and more rescue works climbed into the cab.


	2. Chapter 2

The hospital was in chaos.

Nurses covered in blood and dirt darted about while doctors shouted orders, stabilising patients, and preforming lifesaving procedures in the middle of the ER.

John stood numb and not really seeing it all as the chaos moved around him, the smell of blood and antiseptic filling his nostrils but he didn't even notice it, just as he didn't take note of blood on the floor, of the people screaming as news of their loved ones not making it was broken to them. 

All he knew was that seconds ago Sherlock was rushed from the ER his only chance now was to have an operation in the hope that the bleeding could be stopped, that they could find the source and repair it before it was too late.

John didn't get the chance to say bye. Sherlock had fallen unconscious while still in the train and hadn't regained consciousness since. It was a blessing that he couldn't feel the pain his body was going through, but John was a doctor, he knew that the reasons that led to a person losing conscious and Sherlock’s all led to blood loss.

"Doctor Watson?" A voice behind him asked.

Turning he took in a man totally out of place in the chaos of the ER room. His suit was pristine, not even a crumb of food dirtied it, he was leaning on a very elegant umbrella and his slightly red coloured hair was perfectly quaffed. But it was his eyes that gave him away, that made him just like everyone else in the room, they showed the fear that was a very real, very tangible thing within the four walls of the ER.

"Can I help you?" John asked, not caring about his blood stained clothes and hands, he even had blood smudging his face and neck where Sherlock had touch him, but he didn't care.

"I believe you helped to stabilise and rescue a man named Sherlock?"

"Yes...he...they just took him for emergency surgery." John looked down the hall to the double swing doors that didn't seem to stop moving at the moment.

"I see." The man looked where John looked before turning back to John.

"Do you know him?" John asked looking up at the taller man.

"Sherlock is my brother." 

"Oh...right. Well, he was bleeding internally and they were unable to find the cause so deemed it best to get him into the OR as soon as possible."

"Right. Thank you doctor Watson. You can go home now if you wish."

John frowned then shook his head.

"No, thank you, but no. I want to stay, to make sure he is ok."

"You become loyal very quickly John."

"I just spent nearly an hour with my hand plugging up his abdomen. I need to make sure he is okay."

"I see. Very well. But might I suggest a change of clothes and a wash?"

"Yeah, that is probably a good idea. I don't live far from here so I guess going home to shower and change wouldn't be a bad thing."

"No, I can have my car take you and being you back if you like."

"Your car?"

"Yes, it is waiting outside."

"Right, who the hell are you?"

"Mycroft Holmes." Mycroft held out his hand but John simply held his hands up showing the blood covering them, Sherlock’s blood. "Right." Mycroft dropped his hand taking a deep breath as he did so. "Please, take the car. I will be waiting upstairs for Sherlock to get out of surgery, meet me there?"

"Yeah, thank you."

"No John, thank you."

With that Mycroft left, heading up to the surgical ward.

Shaking his head John turned his hand moving as though he had his cane with him and noting for the first time that he didn't have it. Frowning he took a tentative step forward and found his leg to be in perfect working order. Sighing he closed his eyes a moment, of course a traumatic event was the thing to cure him of his psychosomatic limp, give him a man dying in front of him and he is cured.

Fisting his hands, he took a few steadying breaths before looking up and heading out of the hospital.

*~*~*~*

Pulling on a jumper John looked himself over in the mirror happy with the finished product. He really had been a mess when he got home, not only covered in blood but soot as well. His hair had been more black than blonde, his clothes ripped and covered in, well it was unsalvageable, so into the bin it went.

Now dressed in faded blue jeans and a dark blue jumper, under which he wore a simple white shirt, he felt cleaner, refreshed, but his heart continued to beat fast and hard as every time he closed his eyes or thought too hard he was either seeing or thinking about Sherlock. He needed to get back, to go and sit and wait while people he was sure he knew tried to save the life of a man he hardly knew and yet was now so ingrained upon him that he just couldn't stay away, not until he knew that he was okay, not until he gave thing's the chance they both seemed to know they deserved.

Pulling on coat he picked up his phone and wallet before making his way down to the waiting car. 

*~*~*~*

Four hours passed, in that time someone had come to speak to Mycroft twice, both times giving reassures that everything was being done to save his brother.

John knew what that meant. 

They were experiencing difficulties and Sherlock had lost a lot of blood, probably too much as John was sure he had seen them run for blood at least four times.

"You were a surgeon." Mycroft suddenly said as he lowered his phone, the device only being lowered twice before since John had arrived.

"Yes."

"Tell me the truth then."

John sighed and tilted his head back till it rested against the wall behind him. 

"I would have lost him if we didn't get him out when we did, another ten minutes and they wouldn't be in there, he would have probably died on the way here. It was only because I told them everything on the way in that an OR had been prepped and ready to go before we even got within a mile of the hospital." John paused taking a breath. "Something ripped through his abdomen, I'm not sure what, it was dark. But it...it damaged a lot, his intestines definitely had damage, his liver I'm not sure about, I'm not sure of anything. It was dark, he was bleeding internally, because he started to cough up blood, that is what they will be looking for, the thing that will kill him if they don't find it." 

Silence hung heavy as John finished, he dares not look at Mycroft, because if he did he knew he would see what he felt, hopelessness and fear.

"Mr Holmes?" John looked down the hall as Mycroft was called causing the well-dressed man to stand. The man dressed in blue scrubs, still wearing his cap and looking exhausted walked over. "Mr Holmes, I'm doctor Ansari I was the lead surgeon working on your brother."

"How is he?" Mycroft’s hand tightened slightly in the umbrella he was once again holding, something John only noticed because he was sat right next to the hand.

"He had been taken up to ICU for now but we need to go back into the OR as soon as he is strong enough."

"You couldn't find the source of the bleeding." John said looking up.

The doctor looked down at John and shook his head.

"No, but he crashed twice on the table, after the second time we made the choice to bag him and let him build up so strength before we try again."

"Bag him?" Mycroft looked down at John when he asked this.

"Umm." John looked to the doctor who nodded, letting John know he was okay with John explaining it. "They bag patients when they know that they need to go back in. There would be no point in closing him up only to reopen a day or so later."

"So Sherlock is left with an open wound?"

"Basically, yes. What they do is they pack the area and then place a plastic sheet over the wound which when on properly forced all the air to be sucked out causing an air tight seal. It looks worse than it is, but under the circumstances I would have done the same." John stood then and placed a hand over Mycroft's, which still gripped the umbrella handle, he then looked to the doctor. "Can we see him?"

"I...it's family only I'm afraid."

John went to nod his understanding but Mycroft's words stopped him.

"John just saved my brother's life, it was their first date, or so I'm led to believe. So John Watson will be give the same consideration as me and any other member of my family."

John gapped at Mycroft. How the hell did he know about the first date thing?

"Very well." Doctor Ansari nodded and stepped back. 

"I'll take you both to see him."

John allowed Mycroft to go first, falling in behind him as they made their way to the ICU.

"Thank you by the way." John said as they entered an elevator.

"John I will only say this once. You are never to thank me. You saved Sherlock, you made sure he got what he needs once he was here, you looked after him when I could not. You deserve to be with him, to see him because without you, as you already said, he would be dead." Mycroft looked down at John as the doors opened. "I will be thanking you for the rest of my life John."

With that the two left the elevator to continue following the doctor.

*~*~*~*

The ICU was an open ward, the beds some distance apart, the lights low and the noise level even lower. It was a stark contrast to the chaos that had been the ER. Here nurses sat at the end of each bed taking notes and constantly watching vitals, here the patients were so close to death they had to be watched around the clock because even the smallest of changes could be the difference between living and dying.

As they made their way to Sherlock’s bed John held back and watched as Mycroft looked down at his baby brother. The harsh ice that was Mycroft's mask suddenly slipped and he seemed so much younger as he reached out and gently touched Sherlock’s dark curls. 

"Hey 'Lock. You just hold on okay." John felt as though he should look away, that he was intruding on a very personal moment, but he couldn't. Seeing how much Mycroft cared for his brother was reassuring, it meant that Sherlock had someone if he didn't remember John once he woke, something that was very possible given everything that had happened.

"John is here, he save your life." Mycroft looked to John and nodded slightly yo the other side of the bed, indicate for John to stand there.

Once at Sherlock’s side his fingers itched to touch that hair again, but Mycroft was still gently stroking through the curls.

"I've seen people in the ICU before, but never like this." Mycroft said looking to John, something he found the older man to do when he wanted something explained to him.

John looked back down at Sherlock and the let his eyes run over every tube, wire, IV and monitors.

"They have intubated him to help with his breathing, that is the tube down his throat, the pump machine next to you is what is helping him. The wires leading down from this monitor-" he moved his hand from the monitor along the wires that disappear under a blanket that covered Sherlock’s chest. "-are attached to his chest, they will be monitoring his heart rate and blood pressure as well as his oxygen levels." He then went on to explain each IV line, fluids, blood, antibiotics, then to the lines draw off all the built up fluids Sherlock would be unable to regulate himself as well as a line drawing fluids from the injury itself. All around them were the machinery to help keep Sherlock alive and once John was done he just breathed as Mycroft processed.

"Sherlock has a unique mind, he is able to store and access practically everything he comes across. He of course will choose to forget things he finds boring or dull, he likes to call it deleting, as if his brain is just one big computer, but it is simply he forgets it." Mycroft's whole demeanour suddenly changed back to the ice cold one. "John I will only ask this once. Will you stay with him?"

"Of course I will." John frowned slightly.

"Thank you, I will of course come every day, and if anything medically comes up that you feel you cannot answer then call me."

"Wait...you are giving me medical control?" John's asked, surprise and nervousness clear in his voice 

"You kept him alive, you want him alive." Mycroft smiled causing John to narrow his eyes slightly. "After all, I'm sure you wish to finish your date, you need him alive for that."

"How? How do you know about that?" John asked, his captain’s voice coming out slightly.

"You will come to find that I know a lot John, don't ask how or why just know that I know."

"Right, so not being cryptic and mysterious at all then." John said with a sigh.

"All you need to know is that I hold a minor position within the British government...though I am sure once he wakes he will tell you otherwise." Mycroft petted Sherlock’s hair once again before straightening and walking to the end of the bed. "Look after him John, make sure they do everything they can to save him and I will be back later. Call if they have him go down for surgery before then." He pulled a card out and passed it John. "One of my men will be outside at all times, if you need anything just ask them."

"Okay." Was all John could get out as he took the card and just looked down at it for a moment. When he looked back up Mycroft was already leaving through the doors.

The nurse at the end of the bed suddenly shifted causing John to notice her for the first time. He looked at her, taking in her blonde hair and deep blues eyes before she smiled at him causing him to realise he was staring.

"Sorry." He muttered placing the card he had been given into his back pocket.

"Not to worry doctor Watson." She said as she got up and did her regular checks. As she pulled down the covers to look over the wound and make sure the lines were still clear, John stepped closer.

"May I?"

"Of course." She pulled back the sheet even more allowing John a clear view of the damaged area. "They did a good job, he just got so tired bless him. He wouldn't have handled another crash."

"No." John stood back and nodded. "Thank you..."

"Mary." The blonde supplied with a smile.

"Thank you Mary." John let her finish her checks then left her as she wrote up her notes.

Walking to the head of the bed John reached out for the first time and gently ran his fingers through the soft dark curls.

"You need to rest, I get that. But please don't stay asleep for too long." Letting go of the curls he pulled up a chair and led his hand over Sherlock’s longer, much paler hand wanting to have just a small amount of contact between them.

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little bit of mind palace in this one :) x x

John was asleep when they deemed Sherlock strong enough to go back in. 

He was woken as they began to prep him, the nurses needing the room to get around the bed. Standing he pulled his chair out of the why while lines were unhooked and new lines added, the staff working with practiced ease and years of experience.

Once Sherlock was ready Mary turned to John with a smile.

"You have a few minutes before we take him down."

"Thank you." John made his way to the side of the bed his fingers automatically finding the curls upon Sherlock’s head. Looking down at the man who had taken over his life in the last twenty-four hours he had to fight back tears that threatened to fall.

"I don't even know you. But damn, if you don't pull through, I will make sure to bring you back myself just so I can kill you again." John smiled, his other hand reaching to cup the side of Sherlock’s face. "Come back form the surgery, just do that one thing, then we can move onto the next."

"It's time." Mary placed a hand on John's shoulder squeezing slightly.

John nodded then lent down and brushed his lips over Sherlock’s temple. "I'll be waiting for you." 

Once they left John pulled out his phone as he made his way into the hallway, the phone having already been dialed  by the time he got there and so was ringing when he just lifted it to his ear.

"John?" Was the instant answer.

"They have taken him back down, no time to let you know before hand sorry." John stopped half way down the hall and lent against the wall enabling him to look outside for the first time in hours. The sun was just coming up and it lit the sky in oranges and yellows.

"That's quite all right John, thank you for letting me know. You will of course keep me updated?"

"Yes of course." He paused running his free hand through his hair. "Mycroft?"

"Yes John?"

"What if...this surgery is risky and he might not pull through. What are, I mean...did he have any thoughts on donation or anything?"

"I don't know John, we never spoke of things like that." John could hear the fear behind the false calm.

"Right, sorry. It's just I pretty sure they will want to know if things don't go right."

"I leave that to you John."

"No...not this. I will keep him alive, I will say yes to what ever keeps him here, but I  will not decided on this. He is your brother Mycroft! You have more say in this than I do!"

Silence answered him, Mycroft was still there but he was still and no sound came down the line.

"Mycroft?"

"He was a drug user."

"Ah...then no."

"No."

"How long has he been clean?"

"Six months."

John's grip on the phone tightened and he slowly took in a breath before letting it out slowly. 

"Why am I only hearing of this now?"

"Because you would have said yes to what ever kept him alive. But now, because you are a doctor, you will find yourself thinking rather than reacting."

"I see, so you were just wanting to use me to do what you couldn't." Anger started to cloud his voice.

"John you must understand that Sherlock means so much to me, his care has been my responsibility for so long now that I would do anything to have him live, even have a stranger take my place. You will do anything to keep him alive because in less than five seconds you found yourself looking at a man you saw the rest of your life with."

"How do you know that?" John demanded.

"I have been reviewing the CCTV for the train, hoping to get who ever is behind the bombings."

"Right, and you just happen to be watching the footage of me and Sherlock just before the explosion?"

"My team know that anything involving Sherlock is to be brought to me directly. "

John shook his head and placed his hand over his closed eyes.

"Mycroft, I don't know what it is exactly that happened in that time, but you are right. I will keep him alive, I promise. But please you must tell me of anything else that could comprise his care."

"There is nothing, only the drug use."

"Can you send me anything on his usage  and recovery."

"Yes of course I will have them sent over."

"Thank you. I'm off to grab a coffee and possibly some food, but I will let you know what is happening as soon as I know."

"Thank you John...for...well for all of this."

"I wish I could say it's an inconvenience, but I don't think I would want to be anywhere else. So you are welcome."

"Goodbye John." 

"Bye Mycroft." John lowered his phone and stared at the screen for a moment. His life had totally changed in such a short amount of time. He was sitting vigil at the side of a man's bed, a man he was sure would change everything, as well as talking to a man who seemed to have access to everything, a man who knew a lot about everything and seemed to pretty much run anything he wished to at the drop of a hat.

Pushing off the wall he made his way down to the café, his thoughts muddling through everything before falling back onto Sherlock, to soft curls and pale skin, to the thought that the kiss his had just given the man might very well be the last.

*~*~*~*

He stared at the wall not understanding where it had come from or why it was there. It was an inconvenience and stopping him from leaving his mind palace because on the other side was the door that allowed him to wake. But no matter what he tried it remained.

Around him was all the equipment he had tried, a sledge hammed, a saw, a battering ram that he had seen the police use to get into reinforced doors, there was even explosives and finally behind him was a JCB with a small wrecking ball attached to it, none of it worked. The wall itself was as pristine as when he first came across it, but the other walls bore the scars of the explosive and of the use of the wrecking ball.

Sitting crossed legged on the floor Sherlock just stared, willing the wall to disappear, tellin himself he had put it there he could get rid of it. But it refused to budge.

Something serious must have happened to him, something affecting his ability to leave, but no matter where he looked within his palace he couldn't find a single reference to what that thing could be.

There was one difference however.

"I told you the explosives wouldn't work."

Sherlock opened his eyes as the voice sounded just behind him.

This person, this figment of his imagination had been with him since he found himself trapped and he really had no idea where he came from.

Turning to the man he took in the clothes, faded jeans, dark jumper, a button down shirt worn under said jumper. He was older than Sherlock with golden blonde hair greying slightly at the roots and deep blue eyes that sparkled as they ran over Sherlock’s face.

"I thought I got rid of you." Sherlock muttered and turned back to the wall.

"Obviously not." The man came and sat next to him and just looked at the wall with him. "Not a scratch."

"No." Sherlock sighed running his fingers through his hair. "It really wont break."

"So there must be a good reason to why it is here, to why it is blocking your way."

"Something happened, something not good....but I don't remember!"

"So it could simply be protecting you, keeping you here till it is safe for you to leave."

"So something so traumatic has happened causing my brain to shut me in?"

"Well yeah." The man shrugged. "Why does that seem so far fetched?"

"Because then if this is really a traumatic   experience why do people not talk about it?"

"Maybe they forget? Or maybe they don't have the capacity to do what you do. You built this place before this happened, not everyone can do that. So maybe they dream, after all most people talk of extreme dreams or strange things happening when they are in a coma."

Sherlock snapped his head around to the man. "Coma?"

"Yeah, it's the only thing that explains the wall. It's unwilling to let you go, so coma."

"Coma." Sherlock repeated testing the word on his tongue. He had been in several states of un-wakefulness, from just sleeping to passed out, but never a coma, never the state of truly being trapped. "Coma does make sense."

"Course it does."

Silence fell around them for a time till Sherlock stood and walked to the wall his hand running over the smooth surface.

"Fine." He nodded his head and turned to the man. "Now you."

"Me?" The man asked getting to his feet. 

"Yes, you are new, I have no idea who you Are or why my mind finds it a good idea to keep you around."

"Right, well name will come later,  but for now...trust me?"

"Right...trust a man I've never met before?" Pain suddenly laced through his abdomen, causing Sherlock to double over, his arms wrapping around himself as strong hands found his shoulders, stopping him from falling to the ground.

"Breath Sherlock, just breath." 

White lights flashed behind his eyes as the pain increase and then was gone as though it was never there.

Slowly straightening he took a few deep breaths as he looked down into blue eyes.

"What the hell was that?"

"I'm guessing your trauma." The man answered knowingly.

"You know what it is!" Sherlock accused his eyes wide and angry.

The man just laughed. "Of course I do Sherlock! That's my role here, my role to keep you safe, to keep you calm and to keep you from causing yourself more harm! It's the role you made for me."

Sherlock stepped back from the man breathing hard and feeling suddenly exhausted. 

"Why are you like that? "

"What?" The man looked down at himself. "You mean why this form?"

"Yes."

"No idea." He stepped closer to Sherlock a steady strong hand resting on his shoulder. "You need to rest."

"I am resting. Coma remember?" Sherlock  glared at the man even as he felt himself becoming all the more tired.

"The coma is to help you body heal without the interference of your higher brain function. But you still need to rest your brain, so come on, to bed with you." The man led him down the hall, passing a few doors till reaching the door that led to an exact replica of Sherlock’s bedroom at his mothers house.

"Why here?" Sherlock asked with a groan even as he sat on the bed.

"Because it was the closest. Your current bedroom would take far too long to get to. That what happens when you build your room as they happen. So naturally this one came first...well actually the first room was a few doors back, but I'm pretty sure the pirate ship bed you once slept in would no longer hold your long lanky body."

Sherlock smiled as he led back on the bed, his head instantly comfortable on the pillow. "I loved that bed."

"Yeah, you and Redbeared had a lot of adventures with that bed, fighting the scum of the seven seas and hunting for treasure."

Sherlock looked at the man as he curled up on his side, his hand placed under his head. "Will you be here when I wake?"

"I'm not going anywhere." The man lent down then brushing curls from Sherlock’s temple and brushing his lips there. "Sleep well."

Sherlock smiled slightly allowing his eyes to close and falling instantly asleep.


	4. Chapter 4

Mary stood just outside the door to the cafe her eyes searching for John. She was dressed once again in her nurse’s uniform after leaving the O.R, doctor Ansari having asked her to bring John up to the surgical floor.

Finding John sat in a corner, his eyes staring out of the nearby window she slowly weaved her way through tables and people apologising as she went. Reaching John, she smiled slightly as he turned to look up at her and blinked a few times before launching to his feet.

"Is he..."

"He's in recovery." She assured placing a gentle hand on his arm as John visibly slumped but kept stranding. "Come on, doctor Ansari wants to tell you what went on."

She turned and made her way back through the maze of tables looking over her shoulder only once to make sure John was following her, which he was. As they left the cafe John walked beside her in silence until they stepped into an elevator.

"Did they stop the bleeding?" He asked not looking at her but looking straight ahead as he stood at military ease.

"I think it best doctor Ansari explains everything." She kept her voice calm and steady as she answered. She of course knew the right answer but the doctor would be able to give John all the information he needed, so deemed it best to allow John to get everything from one source.

"Right, yes of course. Sorry I should never have asked you that."

"It's okay John, you can be human when dealing with your partner."

John turned to her then his eyes wide with shock.

"Oh...I'm sorry he's not your boyfriend?" Mary asked frowning slightly.

"No... I thought everyone knew." John said confusing her more.

"No, I just assumed. I mean you are dealing with his medical care and you haven't left his side since he came in. You treat him as though you...you care for him."

"I met him in the underground train seconds before the explosion."

"Oh...well you do care for him, even if you don't really know him, that much is obvious."

"I..." John paused, trying to find the right words to the emotional connection he felt to Sherlock. "I saved his life, had my hand plugging up his abdomen for nearly an hour, we talked, he is...amazing, brilliant, a genius even." He smiled and turned to Mary. "He changed my life in less than five seconds, I need to see if I changed his."

Mary smiled, placing a gentle hand to his arm. "If it didn't then he is stupid."

"I'm nothing special, not like him."

"Right, because everyone would spend an hour with their hand in someone’s gut for no reason what so ever. You're right, you’re not at all special." She winked at him as the elevator door opened and she stepped out leading him back down to ICU.

Once inside he went straight to Sherlock, back in the area he had been in before with all wires and tubes back in place.

Doctor Ansari turned as John came up to the bed and smiled.

"We found the bleed and we got out all the debris that had been left inside. Whatever caused the main damage wasn't left inside him so it must have caused the damage as it went by him."

John sighed, releasing the breath he didn’t know he had been holding.

"As you probably know it is now a matter of time. The damage done was extreme and his blood loss so very close to dangerous that it will take a few bags to get him back on track. We are of course keeping him under, even with the best painkillers he would be in far too much pain. I'm surprised he was awake for as long as he had been."

"I made him stay awake. I kept him talking." John reached out, taking Sherlock’s hand and running his thumb over the soft skin.

"I got your page about the drug use, thank you, of course his course of treatment when he wakes will work around that information, until then we just need him to heal and we need I give him what he needs to do that." The doctor paused and John steeled himself. "Do we have permission to give him what he needs?"

John closed his eyes, his mind running over the information in the file Mycroft had given him. The doctor in him rebelled, just as he knew it would be doing in doctor Ansari but he need to look at this from another angle. He was technically classed as a family member, he should listen to what the doctor needs to say and go from there.

"You will be telling me what I know, but I need to hear it."

"Some of what we need to give him to ease the pain, even while in the coma can become addictive. Of course when he wakes we can modify what he has, cater to what works best for him. The main problem though is keeping him under, the normal dosage may not be enough for him, his tolerance will be higher than those without his pass usage history and so we need to find the right balance."

John looked down at Sherlock and increased his grip on the hand slightly.

"You need to lower the dosage till he wakes slightly then put him back under."

"Yes. We cannot keep him on the high dosage he is on now, it will start to have very adverse effects on his organs."

"He won’t remember."

"Most don’t, it is very rare for those in his condition to remember anything."

"Do it, I don't want him to suffer because I was too afraid to see him in pain again."

"Okay, we will have to wait a few hours. Do you want to be here when we do?"

"Yeah, I'll get his brother here as well just in case he doesn't know me."

"Right. We just need to allow him to rest before we try. His body has been through far too much in the last twenty-four hours and a few more hours at the level of sedation we have him on will not hurt."

"Right." John nodded and doctor Ansari smiled slightly.

"He was lucky to have you helping."

"I let another die because I couldn't leave him." The doctor sighed and looked over at his patient before placing a hand on John's shoulder.

"You are human, you stayed with the person you care about, no one can ask more of you. If you had left him, even for a minute we might not be stood here right now."

"I know that, but still...I let her die to save him." He turned to the doctor. "He is never to know that."

"Of course not. John you need to sleep, you had maybe an hour or two in that chair but that is not enough. There is a family room with a shower and a bed down the hall. Go sleep, I will get someone to wake you when we are ready to wake Sherlock."

John went to refuse, he wanted to stay, but it would seem his body responded to the word bed and when he went to speak he yawned instead causing Ansari to laugh slightly.

"Sherlock may be my patient, but by extension so are you. So go, sleep, he won’t be going anywhere."

"Fine, but if there are any changes-"

"I will notify you John." This from Mary as she noted down Sherlock’s stats.

"Thanks Mary." With that Ansari led John to the family room and left him to himself.

Pulling his phone free he dialled Mycroft. When the elder Holmes answered John told him everything and then told him that he needed to be here in a few hours’ time. Once done he hung up and led back on the bed not bothering with his shoes or even his jumper. He was asleep in seconds.

 .~.~.~.~.

Sherlock sat up with a start, looked around the room twice before his eyes stopped on the man from before.

"What do I call you?" Sherlock asked as the man lowered the newspaper he had been reading.

"Not yet." The man suddenly frowned and looked towards the door. "Soon though."

Sherlock was on his feet instantly. Pulling the door open he headed towards the wall that was keeping him locked in. As he reached it his hand went out to run along a crack that had appeared.

"Something is happening."

"Yeah...they are letting you wake." The man said as he studied the crack. "But there is no way you can get through there."

"Right, so they are letting me wake, but I won’t because this is a natural state."

"Exactly." The man turned to him and shrugged. "They are just about to learn that you are in a coma and it has nothing to do with the meds they have been giving you."

"Great. So how so I leave?"

"You need to heal."

"No... your name, I need your name." Sherlock turned on the man, moving forward till the man was pressed against a wall. "Tell me!"

"Nope." The man shook his head, his hands lose by his side. "Not yet, you have deemed yourself not ready."

"Me?"

"Yes you idiot. That is why I'm here, to make sure you don’t do anything rash and You allow yourself to heal. We went over this before."

Sherlock frowned trying to remember. "When?"

"Before you slept." The man frowned as Sherlock took a step back.

"Would seem that I forgot that."

"Yes." The man studied him closely before shrugging. "I'm sure it's fine, all fine."

"It's not though." Sherlock said as he crossed his arms.

"No, but no point worrying about it right now." The man continued to look at him a smile on his face and Sherlock deemed then and there not to trust whatever he was. He may be there to help Sherlock but something seemed off about him.

Sighing, Sherlock turned back to the wall his finger tracing the crack a moment but pulling back as pain once again raced through his body. Wincing he stepped away from the wall the pain easing to just a dull ache and he finally got it.

"You're protecting me from the pain." He said to the wall and the looked at the man from under his curls. "And you are doing the same."

"Yes." The Man pushed away from the wall walking up to Sherlock and placing a hand on his arm, the dull ache disappearing completely. "I know you don’t trust me, meaning you don’t trust yourself, but this is all a good thing, a very good thing."

"Mycroft won’t think that."

"No, and neither will your doctor's. They will see this as a bad thing. But as I've said before, your mind is unlike most people's and it is protecting you."

"So when will I wake?"

"Hard to say, but you will?"

"Sherlock can you hear me?" Sherlock snapped his head up to look at the wall.

"Mycroft?" He whispered, frowning at the tone of his brother's voice.

"Sherlock, if you can hear me please just at least move something."

Sherlock glared at the Man.

"Wake me up!" Sherlock demanded.

"I can't, not yet."

"Sherlock?" This voice was different, but he knew it.

"What..." Touching the wall again he frowns deeply. "Why are you out there?" He asks the Man, when no answer come he turned to find himself alone.

"Sherlock, we need you to wake up. Please just open your eyes, or squeeze my hand." The sensation of his left hand being touched made him look down, but even as he moved his fingers he knew that movement wouldn't translate to his physical body.

Leaning against the wall, next to the crack he listened as the voices started to talk amongst themselves and then slowly started to fade till he was once again completely alone.

 .~.~.~.~.

John frowned as he continues to run his fingers over Sherlock’s hand, listening as the doctor talked, but already knowing everything.

This was not good. Sherlock was in a natural coma, he was unresponsive, even the feel of pain gave no indication that he was even slightly aware.

John didn't get it.

"You said his mind was unlike anyone else you know." John spoke over the doctor as he looked up at Mycroft, causing the two men to look at him. "Explain."

"It’s like a computer, or as I've said that is what he likens it to. He is able to store information in a way that allows him to access it whenever he needs it. But like a computer some data needs to be deleted, so things he does not find interesting or useful are just forgotten."

"A mind palace?" Doctor Ansari asked.

"Yes, you have heard of them?" Mycroft raised an eyebrow, something John came to realise was Mycroft's way of expressing his surprise.

"Yes, though I don’t know much about them."

"Well his is huge. Corridor after corridor of rooms all holding different information."

"How do you know that?" John asked.

"I helped him to build it. When he was younger he had no way to store the information he was receiving. It caused intensive migraines, days of pain and extreme aversion to anything other than darkness. When I asked him what he thought caused it, he had simply said 'overloaded'. I took it upon myself to learn what I could, so when I came across mind palaces I saw no harm in helping him build it. He hasn't suffered from a migraine since."

"He's trapped in it." John stated simply.

"Why do you think that?" Doctor Ansari asked folding his arms.

"Give him a C.T scan, check for any abnormalities, go down the route we would normally take. But I bet everything will come back normal, until we check his brain activity."

"And what do you think we will find?"

"That it will be more active than your typical coma patient."

The doctor looked to Mycroft who just looked back, John had the end say in what was to be Sherlock’s treatment, so Mycroft said nothing.

"Very well." The doctor looked at John. "And if you are right?"

"If I'm right, and he is trapped, we can only wait."


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay so tiny chapter because well the next chapter will hopefully be a lot bigger, I just needed a little bridge of a chapter before starting on the next part.
> 
> enjoy!!!!

The light from the overhead lighting caused the strands upon John’s hair to go from golden blond to dull brown whenever he passed under it. His eyes watching as the nurses went about cleaning Sherlock for the first time since the explosion, as well as changing his bandages. When one of the nurses picked up a brush to comb through those tangled curls John stopped and stared. The nurse looked up at that moment and smiled holding the brush out to him.

“Do you want to do this John?” John looked down at the brush then to the nurse, a man, in his late fifties with greying hair and kind brown eyes.

“Yeah…thanks.” John stepped around the other nurses, heading to the head of the bed and took the brush from the older man. Smiling, he nodded his thanks once again and turned to look down at Sherlock before gently starting to brush out the knots and dried blood from the dark curls.

As he brushed, he talked about how Sherlock was doing, about the operation and what they had done, even going into detail about the stitches used. It was easy to talk about it, easy to tell the man before him about the surgery rather than anything else. After all, all he was doing was relaying facts, nothing more.

Once the dark curls were tangle free, John placed the brush on the table with all the other cleaning equipment and just gently ran his fingers through them. He had stopped talking at this point, his eyes just taking in the pale face before him.

Sherlock really was stunning, his sharp features were unusual, adding a rather alien look to him, a look John was sure most people would find disconcerting, yet John couldn’t help but look. He wanted to touch every sharp edge, every dip, every flaw, to ingrain the memory of the strange face into his mind so that he would never forget it.

Closing his eyes for a moment he just let himself breath as his mind went into overdrive, throwing image after image of Sherlock laying on the train floor, blood pouring from his mouth. Of the paramedics never arriving in time, of watching as the light left those amazing eyes, eyes that he had only truly seen in the seconds before the explosion.

Fisting his hand’s, he opened his eyes, the urge to lean down and brush his lips over Sherlock’s temple so strong that he gave in after only a few seconds. Placing a hand back on to the soft curls he lent down and just breathed in the sent coming from the man, a combination of hospital issue soap, antiseptic and something so unique he was sure it had to be Sherlock’s own sent. Smiling slightly, he placed a gentle kiss to warm skin and just allowed himself to stay there, breathing Sherlock in and allowing himself to reassure his racing heart and evil mind, to know that Sherlock was alive, that he was in safe hands, but most of all to know that he, John, had him.

“John?” Jumping John looked up to find Mycroft stood at the end of the bed a small crooked smile on his face.

Standing up straight John looked down at Sherlock then back to his brother and shrugged slightly. “You saw the video.”

“Indeed.” Mycroft nodded and pulled a chair over to sit at the foot of the bed. The nurse who had taken over from Mary a few hours ago looked at Mycroft then at John.

“He’s family.” John said with a nod towards Mycroft.

“Ah, the other Mr Holmes.” She said with a nod before returning to her paperwork.

“Would seem our reputation proceeds us.” Mycroft said as he pulled free a phone and started to text.

“I think Mary may have left notes.” John said watching as the nurse nodded ever so slightly, a small smile on her face even as she continued to write.

“You're early.” John said as he continued to run his fingers through Sherlock’s hair, his eyes watching Mycroft.

“A meeting come to a rather quick ending. It gave me a chance to get here early.” The man lowered his phone. “I thought you would like the chance to go and get some sleep.”

“I…” John sighed and shook his head. “Thanks, but no, I’m fine for now.”

“Very well. Then we can just sit here and wait.” Mycroft went back to his phone, typing away as John finally pulled himself away from dark curls to pull another chair closer to the bed, the small movement of Sherlock’s fingers missed by everyone.

 .~.~.~.~.

Sherlock growled as he moved his hand knowing that his physical body also moved, but when no feeling of being touched upon said hand was felt he knew it had been missed.

“Damn it.” He muttered just staring at his hand and trying once again to get himself to move.

“At least you moved.”

“Not good enough.”

The man had returned a while ago. Sherlock had fallen asleep against the wall and when he woke it was to find his head resting on a lap and fingers gently running through his hair, a feeling that was not unwelcome, but he found that he was also feeling it in his physical self.

“Keep trying.”

Sherlock sat up, leaning himself back against the wall and turned to look at the man.

“You are out there.”

“Yes.”

“Why?” The man shrugged.

“No idea.”

“What use are you?” Sherlock scoffed

The man smiled as his hand reached out and took Sherlock’s, the feeling of his physical body being touched once again, right on the same hand the man was holding.

Closing his eyes Sherlock tightened his grip on the man’s hand, hoping to translate that to his real hand.

“Sherlock?” The voice came from the wall. “Sherlock I felt that!”

“Felt what?” This was Mycroft’s voice.

“He squeezed my hand, only slightly but it was there.”

“Sherlock?” Something touched his other hand and he tried to indicate he felt it but he couldn’t move that hand, so he simply tightened his grip once again on the man’s hand.

“Okay that is good, really good.” The voice was happy, hopeful, but it was also starting to fade. “Can you op…”

“Damn it.” Sherlock opened his eyes and looked at the man next to him, blue eyes shining brightly as the man reached out and gently brushed back a curl.

“You are getting there.” The man whispered looking up at the wall now covered in cracks.


	6. Chapter 6

Sherlock had somehow fallen asleep once again, this time in a room that held the memory of his parent’s front room. He had always fallen asleep on the sofa they had when he was a teen, it was soft and perfect, melding itself to his lanky form and allowing him the peace he so longed for when his mind became too much.

Waking, he blinked a few times before pushing himself up, swinging his legs around before running his fingers through his hair a few times. Standing he walked to the window that looked out over his mother’s rose garden which was in full bloom and sporting every colour of rose you could think off. As he watched, a woman slowly made her way through the flowers, dead heading them and cutting a few stems, each time bringing the flower to her nose.

“What was her name?” The Man asked as he came to stand at the other side of the window.

“Violet. She loved her garden, it was her peace, the place she could just be.” Sherlock followed his mother as she moved, watching as she bent to do something then slowly straighten the pain evident on her face. “She became ill when I was in my late teens. She died when I was twenty-five.”

A hand landed softly on his forearm causing him to look down but seeing nothing.

“I need to wake up.”

“Yes.” The man stepped forward his hand landing on the exact same spot he knew the other was touching. “My name is…”

 .~.~.~.~.

John had fallen asleep his head resting on his arms while his hand kept a hold of Sherlock’s. When he woke he was stiff and so sore that he cursed himself for not taking up Mycroft’s offer to sleep in a real bed.

Stretching he looked to the end of the bed to Mary and gave her a small smile before standing, placing his hand on Sherlock’s forearm before leaning down to gently brush back curls that hadn’t moved but he just couldn’t help himself.

“Morning Sherlock.” He whispered and placed a gentle kiss to the pale forehead before stand up straight and turning back to Mary. “I’m just going to-“

“John…”

John froze his eyes widening as Mary suddenly stood and went to the head of the bed.

“Sherlock? Sherlock I need you to just breath norm-“

“John?”

Letting out a breath he didn’t know he had been holding he turned and looked into pale, ever changing eyes.

“You remember?”

“I…no.” Sherlock frowned his eyes widening as he looked around, panic clearly setting in as he took in the hospital room.

“Okay, it’s okay.” John gently took hold of the long pale hand his other hand once again going to the dark curls.

“What happened? Why…” He frowned then gasped as his free hand went to his abdomen. “Fuck.”

“Yeah.” John looked at Mary as she pushed something into an IV port.

“Morphine. He hasn’t had any since we tried to wake him.” Mary explained.

“No, I can’t.” Sherlock looked from the port to John. “I can’t.”

“You can, you can have whatever I allow and I allow that.” John tightened his hand around Sherlock’s fingers. “The only problem now is that we now have to put you back to sleep.”

“Why?” He asked his breath catching in pain.

“Because you are going to be in so much pain, you have only been clean for six months and I bet that even the highest doses of morphine will do very little to help you right now.”

“What happened? I don’t remember.” Sherlock growled slight then winced as his hand fisted the covers over his wound.

“You were on a train, an explosion ripped through the carriage we were on. You got hurt, badly. You have had over twenty hours of surgery and where the hell is Doctor Ansari?” John looked up to Mary who was watching Sherlock’s vitals with concern.

“He was in surgery, I’ve page him and he will be here soon.” She turned to John. “Keep him calm, you’re helping.”

John ran his eyes over all the monitors, Sherlock’s stats were low, his oxygen intake was worrying and his blood pressure needed to rise, it was far too low, as was his heart rate.

“Okay, what was the last thing you remember?” John asked as he looked back down at Sherlock. John stared as the man looked up at him, those pale eyes searching, as though he was trying to read John’s very soul.

“I had a case, Lestrade he…” What colour was in Sherlock’s cheeks suddenly drained just as his breath caught and his back arched up off the bed. The monitors all around started to sound one after the other.

“He needs to go under now!” John almost shouted at Mary.

“I can’t, we need to wait for the doctor.”

“John.” Sherlock grasped at John’s hand, his hold tight to the point it was almost painful.

“It’s okay I have you.” John’s voice was gentle as he spoke to Sherlock, bring the longer fingers up to his lips and brushing over then softly.

Sherlock watched through pain fogged eyes, then as their eyes met once again the multi-hued eyes widened.

John smiled, though he was unsure why, all he knew was that Sherlock remembered him somehow. Something had just triggered a memory and it was obvious by how Sherlock squeezed John’s hand harder while at the same time allowing the back of his index finger to run over John’s lips.

“I have you.”

“Sherlock.” John lifted his head as Doctor Ansari appeared. “I’m your doctor, it’s good to see you awake, but as I’m sure John has already told you, we need to put you back under.”

Sherlock nodded as he was unable to verbalise anything as he continued to fight against the pain running through his body.

“Mary start with the low dosage and slowly build it up until he’s under.”

“Yes doctor.”

“You might start feeling dizzy, possibly a bit sick but it will pass and you will be asleep pretty soon.”

John kept hold of Sherlock’s hand his eyes not leaving the pale face. When Sherlock looked back to him he was surprised when the hand he held pulled him down some more until John had to place his free hand on the pillow and he was inches away from Sherlock’s face.

“John?”

“Yeah, at least that you remember.” John whispered.

“You…why? I don’t understand.”

“I know, but you will, once you get better.” John lent down placing a soft kiss just to the side of Sherlock’s lips. When he pulled back Sherlock’s eyes were closed, his breathing evened out and his body relaxed as the sedative took effect.

“Sherlock?” Mary shook at Sherlock’s shoulder waiting for a response, when none came she noted the dosage and set the drip to keep it at the level it took to keep him under.

John closed his eyes leaning his head down next to Sherlock’s and just breathed as the whole last half an hour replayed over and over in his head.

Sherlock woke up, this was a good thing, a very, very good thing.

Sherlock remembered something, but John was unsure what it was.

But there was also something more, John just realised how totally screwed he was. He was totally in love with the man he was clinging to so desperately.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is not a happy chapter, forgive me!

The sound of the paper being read broke the silence as nimble fingers gently turned the page and then settled as eyes ran over the words of an article relating to unease in the east. Smiling slightly Mycroft shook his head, if the media knew any of the truth about any unease in any country they would all probably seize up and die. His media team however were very good at making sure only the barest of information got out. As for the Prime Minister, he was an excellent actor and completely worth the money. His portrayal of a total idiot pleased Mycroft to no end and kept the public talking about his total lack of skill and leadership rather than focusing on any real issue.

"Thanks Mycroft." John's voice broke through his musings, his hands lowering the paper before folding it gently and placing it on his lap.

Looking up at John he offered a small smile. The man looked better than he did a few hours previously.

Mycroft had returned to the hospital after being informed about Sherlock waking and then being promptly sedated. John had been holding onto Sherlock’s hand, his body pressed up to the side of Sherlock’s body and his face pushed up against the side of Sherlock’s face.

"John?" The speed the man moved was astonishing. He looked down at Sherlock then turned to Mycroft, he had clearly been crying, but Mycroft said nothing. "Go home, sleep, shower and eat. He won’t be waking up any time soon."

John blinked at him a few times before letting go of Sherlock’s hand with some reluctance and nodding his thanks before leaving.

Now that John had done as he had been instructed, Mycroft was glad to see the man looking well rested and not as drawn as he had been.

"No need to thank me John."

"True, but still thanks." John moved to the head of the bed and without any care or thought, lent down to place a kiss on Sherlock's temple. "Hi."

"He's been stable. They have changed all his dressing and taken care of everything else since you have been gone. Stacy here has been excellent company."

Mycroft looked to the nurse sat at the desk, the dark hair woman looking Mycroft with a raised eyebrow before turning to John.

"He's worse than you. He only sat down to read his paper fifteen minutes ago. He's been talking to his brother for the rest of the time."

John smiled, his eyes falling to the elder Holmes brother.

"His brain will rot for sure if he has no external stimuli." He missed John laugh slightly as he lifted the paper back up and started to read once again.

He was just finishing the article he was reading when an alarm from one of the monitors went off.

Stacy jumped up as Mycroft stood and John read off the monitor.

"His heart rate is dropping!"

"Why?" Mycroft asked his heart rate doing the opposite and sky rocketing.

Stacy hit the emergency button as Sherlock flat lined. Staff seemed to appear out of the walls pushing him and John back as they flattened Sherlock onto his back and being mindful of his injuries started CPR.

"John?" Mycroft found himself grabbing John's wrist, his voice giving way to panic.

That was his brother, his baby brother. Nine months ago he had pulled him from that dump of a drug den, skin and bone, high as a kite and so damn filthy Mycroft hardly recognised him. It had taken a week to get any sense out of him, then another month to finally convince Sherlock to go to the best rehab centre in Europe.

He had thought he would lose his brother to drugs, to the high that even up to a week ago he knew Sherlock was fighting against. It was why he has sought out Greg Lestrade, why he had told the DI to let Sherlock help on a case, letting the man know that Sherlock was clean and reliable. It had worked, the temptation of finding that high had lowered and Sherlock threw himself into the case, a double murder that Mycroft was sure Sherlock had solved in minutes, but they had lost the suspect and that was why Sherlock had been on that train.

"Take him off the sedative!" John suddenly shouted. "Take him off and give him the anti-drug to wake him up."

Doctor Ansari had arrived just as John said this.

"Do it, now!"

"What is going on?" Mycroft asked, his hand tightening on John's wrist.

"Sherlock is have an adverse reaction to the sedative, even the low dose he is on is affecting him in a way that is causing his heart rate to lower. If he was healthy he would be fine, his heart would slow but not drastically. But because of his trauma his body can’t take it."

"So what does that mean?"

"It means he needs to stay awake." This came from the doctor as they got Sherlock’s heart beat going at a steady pace.

"He's going to wake up in a moment." This came from John. "You should be there when he does."

"I... he won't want to see me." Mycroft almost stammered. His mask having totally dropped, gone was the government official, in his place was Myc, Sherlock's older brother who was more afraid than he had ever been.

"John!" Sherlock’s voice broke through everything causing John to pull his hand free and go to Sherlock.

Mycroft watched as Sherlock's hand sought out John pulling the smaller man towards him, gripping him with a need to have something to ground him.

"It's okay, you're okay, just breath."

"Please...you said I would sleep."

"I know, but you reacted badly to the sedative." John was running a gentle hand through Sherlock’s hair and somehow Mycroft felt as though he was intruding on something. "Your brother is here."

Mycroft started as John said his name and he found his legs taking him to the other side of the bed, as nursing staff still worked around them, attaching leads and making sure all IV lines and ports were clear.

Sherlock turned his head to Mycroft, those eyes of his searching over his face and causing Mycroft to smile.

"Even in this state you can’t help yourself."

"I see you’re not...coping very well, two cakes in the last...fuck!" Mycroft took hold of Sherlock’s free hand as his younger brother turned back to John, pushing his face into John's arm as his body succumbed to the pain.

"What can we do?" Mycroft asked.

"Nothing." This was from the doctor. "Our best hope is he passes out."

"And if he doesn't?"

"Then we can only make him as comfortable as possible."

"Painkillers?",

"Won’t work. At least not how we would want them to work. His tolerance is too high."

"John." Mycroft turned to the army doctor who was gently talking to Sherlock as he tried to keep him calm. Deep blue eyes looked up at him for a second before returning to Sherlock. However, Mycroft got his answer, John trusted Doctor Ansari and so because of that his main priority now was Sherlock’s state of mind, not his body, that responsibility now fell to the hospital staff that had thus far kept Sherlock alive.

.~.~.~.~.

Sherlock was in pure hell. His body was on fire, the source the wound in his stomach. It was like he had liquid fire running through his veins and he needed it to be put out.

"John please, I can't." Sherlock hated the tone of his voice, the pure helpless he felt clearly heard in every word.

"We can't give you anything love, I'm so sorry. I really wish we could but it just won’t help you, your tolerance is just too high."

Sherlock tried to keep his breathing as even as possible, even as he listened to John and compression of what he was saying took hold. Gritting his teeth, he turned back to his brother.

"You told him!"

"Sherlock." The sound of his name of John's lips made him catch his breath, it was beautiful hearing his name said in that soft yet strong voice. "Sherlock I told him to tell me everything, I needed to know so that we could come up with a plan that would suit you. We can't keep you on pain meds because they will end up destroying your organs." John suddenly looked up at the doctor. "Why didn’t he have these reaction before?"

"He was on a different sedative. But we can’t give him anymore of that, it will cause more damage. The sedative we just tried is milder but obviously dangerous to him. There are other options, but they are risky."

"So what do we do? Just keep him awake, let him suffer through this?" Mycroft asked this, but Sherlock was starting to find it hard to stay focused on the conversation. His body was demanding his attention, begging him to help, to stop the pain. But he couldn't even move onto his side, to curl up to help with any of the pain, because any sort of movement just caused more.

His hand gripped John's as another wave ripped through him, his eyes closing as he fought back the scream in the back of his throat as well as the tears and the words that at any moment would be begging for something, anything just to keep the edge off.

He felt as John's attention returned to him fully. The smaller man's body shifted slightly, soft lips grazing his temple then his forehead before a whispered voice spoke to his ear.

"Lock yourself away again."

Sherlock pushed himself closer to John, pushing his face against soft hair and warm skin. He breathed in the man's scent letting it take over all other senses for just a moment before breathing out and letting out a sigh.

"I...I'm locked out." He groans as tears finally spill over. "Please, there has to be.... something!"

"I'm sorry, so sorry." He hears John's voice shake then a hand presses firmly onto his abdomen. A scream rips its way out of his throat then blissful darkness takes him.

.~.~.~.~.

"John!" Mycroft grabbed the army doctors hand, pulling it from Sherlock’s stomach just as several alarms sound but went silent before anyone could get to them.

"What the hell do you think you are doing!" Mycroft shouts storming around to the other side of the bed and pulling John from Sherlock.

"In the field, pain is the best way to put someone under! Drugs are not always available and your patient is in too much pain for you to do anything. He was suffering Mycroft; it would destroy him if he has to suffer through that amount of pain constantly."

"He is right Mr Holmes. Our only hope is to keep him under through pain management." Doctor Ansari looked to John. "However that was risky." He pulls back the covers revealing Sherlock’s wrapped abdomen causing John to sigh and slum slightly. No blood was seeping through the bandages meaning John hadn't ripped any stiches.

"Lucky." The doctor says pulling at the edge of the bandages to make sure nothing was bleeding. "Very lucky. However please don't do that again John."

"I won't." John looked up at Mycroft, the man was still breathing hard an angry glint in his eyes. "Mycroft you have to underst-"

"Get out."

John's heart stops "What?"

"Leave, don’t bother coming back." Mycroft glared down at John. "Now."

"Mr Holmes, if Sherlock wakes alone-"

"He won’t, I'll be here."

John looks to the doctor who just shakes his head slightly. "You gave John full authorised medical say on your brother Mr Holmes. You lost all right to say who could be at his bedside when you did that, only John has that right."

John let out a breath, his heart restarting at full speed. However, Mycroft still looked down at him with anger, as though the man thought that just a look would make John leave.

"I'm in love with your brother Mycroft, I will do anything to make sure his suffering is not great, even if it means hurting him in the short term."

"Very well." He turns picking up his coat and umbrella before leaving without a backward glance.

Falling into his chair John lowers his head into his hands as tears start to gather and fall.

"John, you did the right thing." Stacy offers as she placed a hand on his shoulder.

"I know, but I felt it, and his scream... I don't think I will ever get the sound out of my head."

"But look at him now." Slowly John lifts his head to look at Sherlock. The pain was gone from his face, his body relaxed and though he was pale, almost grey in colour, he looked a damn sight better than what he had been like when awake.


	8. Chapter 8

When his eyes opened, the first thing he saw was a tail wagging, soft red fur, a black nose and happy eyes.

"Hello boy." Redbeard’s tail wagged some more as he came closer and licked at Sherlock’s outstretched hand before allowing Sherlock to scratch behind his ear.

"He's good company." John said from the other end of the sofa a book in his hand and a cup of tea steaming away on the small table next to him.

Sherlock turned his attention back to Redbeard before he tried to move then hissed as his body protested.

"You know your injuries now; they will translate to your mind." John lowered his book, placing it on the small table before standing and going to kneel before Sherlock. "Here just won’t hurt as much. How are you feeling?"

"Like I've been in an explosion." Sherlock said letting his head fall back onto the arm of the sofa, the sofa that belonged in his flat yet was in his parents living room.

"You remember?" John asked, his fingers absently running over Sherlock’s arm.

"Yeah, the explosion, the screaming, you...you I remember in detail. From the moment you stepped onto the train...but you already know that."

John smiled. He was slightly different now, his skin more golden, his hair softer looking, his eyes bright and so deep Sherlock thought to lose himself in them.

"Of course I do. Save what you want to say to the real me."

"The real you who is out there, my medical need in his hands, the you I..." he stops taking a slow deep breath "How has he made himself so indispensable in such a short time?"

"Only you can answer that. I'm just here to keep you calm, remember."

"He hurt me."

"To make you pass out. It worked, it also let you get back in here. Gave you a chance to be pain free as well as drug free."

Sherlock winced slightly as he shifted. "Not totally pain free."

"Well no, as I already said, you know of your injuries now. Your brilliant mind may be able to defy somethings but not pain, even that has to translate here."

"Inconvenient."

John laughed as he stood. "Yeah, but it's how it has to be. Tea?"

"Please."

.~.~.~.~.

Sherlock was moved to a private room, they deemed it best as the screaming from before had disturbed the other patients and their families, and they know when he woke again he will be in just as much pain.

John sat in the chair by the head of the bed, his hand gently running over the back of Sherlock’s hand while he looked out the window. At least here he could see outside, in the ICU ward they kept the curtains closed, keeping the room dark.

The window overlooked a small plot of green, a small park that had patients in wheelchairs being pushed around by family or care staff, enjoying the sun, even on a cold day.

The chair in the room was more comfortable than the one in the ICU this one was padded and it reclined, meaning he could sleep in it if he wished to. He was also allowed hot drinks now they were in a private room, so a steaming cup of tea sat on the small table next to the bed.

To an outsider John would look peaceful, calm, ordered. But to those that knew him would see his stillness, his lost look, his total lack of interest on what was happening outside and his loss of appetite when it came to drinking the still hot tea, because if there was one thing John Watson hated, it was letting tea go cold, so he always drank it scalding hot.

John was struggling.

In his mind the sound of Sherlock’s scream as he pressed on his wound echoed endlessly through his mind, even when he tried to drown it out with songs from the Spice Girls it continued on. So now he just let it play, let it torture him to the point he could hear nothing else.

"John..."

Blinking he turned to the door, Mary stood there causing him to frowned.

"I thought you had a day off."

"I did, yesterday."

John looked about then pulled his phone free, but it was dead.

"They moved him in here yesterday afternoon. It now seven in the morning. John the night staff told me that you haven’t moved since they brought Sherlock in here, they kept bringing you tea but you haven't once touch it." The blonde can and crouched on the floor next to the chair.

"They told me what happened, what you did. We would have done the same in the end. It gives the doctors a chance to come up with what else they can do. I know doctor Ansari stayed up most of the night to come up with something."

"I'm sure he will reschedule your dinner. "

Mary smiled. "How did you know?"

"You two don’t stop shooting off glances at each other, and I swear you have some sort of magnetic connection."

"Is it that obvious?" She asks still smiling.

"Maybe not to everyone, but I've done nothing but people watch since being here."

"Oh?"

"Yeah, the guy in the bed across from us, the woman who is always around is his wife right?"

"Yeah, Jen, nice woman."

"She’s been having an affair with her brother in law, the guy that visit every night."

"How do you know that?"

"Magnetism. You and Ansari have it, those two definitely have it, me and Sherlock had it, still do...I think." John turned to look at Sherlock then, it had been hours since doing so, yet his hand had never left the still hand placed on the top of the covers. "He screamed. I was right next to him, he had tried to bury himself against the side of my face, my neck, when I did it. I didn't even think, I just knew it would work, that he would pass out. But the scream, I caused that and it will be forever playing in my head." Tears ran silently down John's face as he lifted the soft pale hand, raising it to his lips and running his lips over the knuckles. "I hope he doesn't remember."

"John, you need to sleep." Mary was still crouched before him. "How about I fetch you another tea, some toast as well as some blankets. You can sleep here and no one will disturb you until you wake or Sherlock wakes."

"Okay." He agreed his breath catching even in that small words as his emotions caught up with him.

"Okay. I'll be right back."

As Mary left John broke down, a sob escaping his lips.

"I'm so sorry...so sorry." Taking in a rattling breath he tried to ground himself, to breath normally but the air kept catching causing him to continue to cry.

When Mary returned she placed the toast on the table as well as the new cup of tea, she then pulled out a bottle of water from her pocket and held out a small cup with two tiny pills inside.

"Zolpidem, just to get you off to sleep."

John stared at the pills, once again taking in a shaking breath and letting it out slowly before popping the pills and taking a mouthful of water, all the while holding Sherlock’s hand.

"Thanks."

Mary smiled placing the bottle with the other stuff before leaving yet again.

"You're lucky I didn’t meet her first." John muttered as his breathing slowed and he started to regain control. "Five seconds in your company though, I'm pretty sure I would leave whoever I was with just after that amount of time. Hell, five second and I haven't left your side. What have you done to me Sherlock?"

Kissing the back of the hand he lowered it and picked up the tea, blowing on the steam for a moment before taking a tentative sip and wincing slightly.

"Remind me though, not to ask her to make tea for me again, this is dreadful."

.~.~.~.~.

John slept for most of the day. He woke only because Mary shook his shoulder and called his name softly.

"John, he's waking up."

Blinking he sat up, pushing the chair down to stand just as Sherlock took in a shuddering breath, his eyes opening then closing against the light.

"Close the blinds." Mary said as she picked up Sherlock’s wrist and timed his heart rate, even though a monitor did that for her.

John went to touch Sherlock’s hair but stopped himself. He didn't know if Sherlock would welcome his touch and though it pained him not to touch him, he would hold off until told otherwise.

"John?" Sherlock asked, his voice horse and pained.

"I'm here."

Sherlock turned his head toward John, his eyes opening a fraction. "Please..." Sherlock reached out, or rather his fingers lifted slightly and it was all the invitation John needed. Taking hold of long fingers, he lent down placing the hand on his, John's, chest, holding it there while his free brushed at curls.

"I'm so sorry for before."

"No... thank you."

John shook his head, lowering it till it was pressed to Sherlock’s shoulder. “How are you remembering all this?”

“I just do.” John felt Sherlock turn his face to bury his nose in John’s hair. “Who are you? How have you infected me so?”

John looked up then a smile ghosting across his lips. “I could ask you the same.”

They held each other’s eyes for a time, just looking, searching, trying to understand who the other was.

“Sherlock?” Mary came up to the other side of the bed and smiled as both men looked at her. “How are you feeling?”

“I…” He closed his eyes shaking his head. “I’m trying to control it.”

John frowned. “What do you mean?”

“It is all just transport John; I can control it.”

“How?”

Sherlock turned to John his perfect eyes opening. “I got back in, you allowed me that. I’m trying to control the pain on my own.”

“Okay.” John glanced up at Mary, he was worried and he could see the same worry in Mary.

“Sherlock, doctor Ansari has come up with a few solutions but we needed you awake before we tried.” Mary said as she wrote on a chart.

“Why wasn’t I told?” John asked with a frown.

“You were sleeping John. You hadn’t slept properly in forty-eight hours, me and the doctor thought it best to just let you sleep. But now that you are both awake we can go through what is planned.” Mary looked up, her pale blue eyes gentle. “The opioid rout is obviously not going to work, your tolerance is too high.”

“My tolerance for most will be too high, even none opioids.” Sherlock said as he turned away from Mary to look up at John. “This is fine, just this, this I can do.”

John smiled, he couldn’t help it. “Sherlock, they have to move you, change bandages, clean you. Whenever that happens you will be in so much pain. There has be something we can do, in those time, to not cause more pain.”

“Then do what you did before.”

The smile dropped and he shook his no. “No, I… no. I can’t, I won’t do that again.”

“You did…on the train. You wanted me-“

“That was different, that was me trying to save your life. I saved it, now I’m trying to keep you comfortable, to keep you here.” He felt his breath catching as tears threatened. “You remember that?”

“First date.”

John laughed even as the tears broke free. “You still up for the second date?”

“Yeah.”

“Good, then let’s start with the painkillers.” John turns to Mary. “Go back to basics? Start with Co-codaprin, just to see if it helps, if not then up to Co-dydramol.”

“I can ask doctor Ansari.” She says with a nod and leaves.

John watches her go then looks back to Sherlock, his eyes were closed and for a moment John thought he had fallen back under.

“Still here.” Sherlock whispers his eyes opening slightly. “Just holding back.”

“You don’t have to; you don’t have to fight it.” He brings Sherlock’s fingers to his lips, gently kissing them. “You can sleep; you can pass out.”

“I don’t want to.” John watches as Sherlock’s eyes fall to his lips, watching as John kisses the back of his index finger, before looking back up and holding John’s eyes.

Lowering Sherlock’s hand back to his chest, John lifts his own hand and runs the back of his fingers over the sharp cheek bones.

“Can I?” Is all John asks.

“Yes.”

Leaning down John gently places his lips over Sherlock’s, it wasn’t so much as a kiss, rather just a press of lips, but it was enough, it sealed the deal and John knew there was no way, not even the slightest chance that he would go back. He belonged to this man, to a man he hardly knew, a man already causing him such pain and heartache, but he wouldn’t change it for the world.

Pulling back, he licks his lips as his eyes open, losing himself in crystal clear waters of greens and blues.

“Damn it.” He whispers and Sherlock smiles the first smile John had truly seen.


	9. Chapter 9

Time was a none existent thing when you are in pain. You have no concept of it, it’s like the whole world stops, even the sun stops so that night and day no longer happen and everyone you meet just happens to be there all that the same time. But then that’s not true, only one person is there constantly.

John never leaves, he is there each and every time he opens his eyes. John had become his clock, his time reference, he knew if time had passed between him closing and opening his eyes simply by how John looked.

For example, when Sherlock resurfaced after closing his eyes for what felt like seconds, John had changed his clothes as well as shaved and had a shower.

"How long?" Sherlock asked, licking his lips and frowning at his dry lips.

"Most of the day." John stood, picking up a cup of ice chips, pulling one out and running it gently over Sherlock’s lips. Sherlock sighed, letting his eyes close and savouring the feel of cold water. Opening his mouth slightly he let a few drops land on his tongue before running it over the top of his dry mouth.

"Can i have one?" He asks opening his eyes to find John looking rather intently at his lip's which in turn caused Sherlock to smile. "Let me have one and you can steal another kiss."

John's blue eyes darted up to his, the blue darkening slightly. "No fair, and you can’t, not yet."

"Please John, I just need something to suck on." As soon as the words left his mouth his eyes widened as John gasped and took a step back, clearing his throat just as they both blushed

"John I-"

"No it's fine, you can have one ice chip, but you have to let it just melt no um...no sucking." John picked up another chip and placed it against Sherlock’s lips. "Open."

Sherlock held John's eyes as he opened his mouth allowing John to place it on his tongue. Closing his mouth, he relaxed as the cold ice eased his dry mouth, letting the cold water ran over his teeth and gums, relishing the feel.

"Who brushed my teeth?" He asked when the ice was gone.

"I did, hours back." John was sitting once again, his hand on Sherlock's wrist. "You blacked out again, the pain...you started to become aggressive."

He didn’t remember that. "I... last time I woke we talked about your time in Afghanistan."

"Sherlock that was two days ago. You have woken a few times since then, but you weren't handling the pain like you are now."

"I don’t remember!" The alarm in his voice caused John to stand, fingers delved into his hair and he calmed down instantly. "It’s okay. This is normal, you are allowed to forget, it’s your minds way of protecting you." The fingers in his hair started to stroke through the curls causing Sherlock to push against the hand slightly. "You're like a cat." John said with a smile.

"I like that, having you do it is relaxing."

"Good." John placed a soft kiss to his temple, it was nice but he wanted more. Tilting his head slightly he caught John's lips, his breath catching as John increased the pressure and then moved his lips slightly. Sherlock responded and started to kiss him back, slow soft movements that caused small sparks of electricity to run down his body.

"Your lips are sinful." John uttered as he pulled back slightly, but not enough as when he spoke Sherlock could feel his lips move over his.

"Again." Sherlock demanded as he lifted his hand and placed it at the back of John's neck, pulling him down and kissing him again, this time opening his mouth slightly to which John took full advantage, delving his tongue inside.

"Huh umm." John stopped kissing but only pulled back slightly. Opening his eyes Sherlock stilled to find John looking right at him with eyes dark with passion yet alight with so much emotion that Sherlock was afraid he would drown.

"Sherlock?" At his brother's voice both men turned to the door.

"Myc-"

"I came only to make sure you were okay."

John pulled back, but kept his hand on Sherlock's arm.

"You never had to stay away, I never banished you." John said stiffly.

Sherlock frowned as he looked between his brother and John

"What are you talking about?"

"It's nothing, I... Mycroft disagreed with my action's."

"What actions?" Sherlock asked, frowning.

"He hurt you." Mycroft answered as he stepped into the room. "At the time I over reacted. I apologise John."

"No need, it was an understandable reaction."

"You’re talking about when I begged you to do something."

"Yeah." John nodded.

"I asked him to My." Sherlock watched his brother's features soften at the use of his shortened name, something Sherlock hadn’t used in a very long time.

"I know, but at the time...I don't ever wish to see you in pain brother mine."

"I’ll just go get a coffee." John suddenly said but before he could move off Sherlock had his wrist in a vice like grip. Panic suddenly overcame him and he just couldn't allow John to leave.

"No." John turned back, concern clear on his face.

"Hey it's okay." A hand cupped his face and John lent in closer. "Mycroft is here, and I'll only be ten or so minutes."

"No, John please."

John looked to Mycroft then up at the monitors. "How long have you been in pain?"

"Since I woke."

"Damn it." John reached out and adjust a drip, allowing it to flow faster. Seconds later the pain stared to ease but it was still very much there.

"You found something to help?" Mycroft asked.

"None opioid analgesic. Not as strong as an opioid based one, but it helps to take the edge off."

"You do that." Sherlock said as he opened his eyes, not even remembering when he closed them. "You keep the edge off; this just helps a little."

John smiled, but then looked serious. "Can you let me go?" He asked gently, not even trying to pull free, just simply asking.

"I... no." It was stupid, Sherlock knew it was impossible to keep John with him constantly, but he just couldn't let him leave.

"Okay." He said softly, smiling once again. "It's fine, I can stay. Don't need coffee anyway, was just thinking to give you and your brother some space."

"It's fine." Mycroft said, causing Sherlock to turn to him. "I'm surprised he hasn't told me to bugger off already, especially since I interrupted a rather private moment."

"Oh, do one, Mycroft." Sherlock said as he blushed ever so slightly.

"See." Was all Mycroft said as he pulled his phone free and started to write.

.~.~.~.~.

John held back the laugh as the brothers interacted, it was nice to have Mycroft back, but it was nicer to see this side to Sherlock. He was in pain, yes, it didn't rule him, not like the last time he woke.

The last time, John had nearly done what he had before, but in the end Sherlock had done it to himself. He had started to pull his IV lines free and then went to sit up, at that point he screamed and fell back onto the bed as he clutched as his stomach, tears streaming down his face. Just before he passed out John had taken hold of his hand and held it tightly, as Sherlock screamed again and then promptly went out like a light.

Pushing those memories away he sat and listened as Sherlock spoke, as Mycroft answered and then watched as Sherlock slowly became tired and then simply fell back to sleep. He watched as the man slept for a while before letting go of the hand still wrapped around his fingers.

"He has become rather dependent on you."

"I know." John stood, stretching his back out and rolling his shoulder.

"He has an addictive personality, be careful."

John flashed Mycroft a look that would have another man backing up, but not the so called British government.

"I know." Walking around the bed he grabbed an empty coffee cup he had finished a few hours before, before heading to the door. "Do you want anything?" He asked the elder Holmes, his tone softer.

"No thank you John."

"He might wake; just tell him I'll be right back."

No answer came as he walked out the door and into the hall. He was just half way to the coffee machine when he had to stop. His heart was racing, his breathing shallow but he had no reason to why he was going into a sudden panic attack.

"Okay head down." A voice order and he followed, lowering his head and crouching down. "Okay just try to keep breathing, long slow breaths, in and out...that’s it."

The voice was grounding, soft, with a sing song lilt to it.

Minutes passed before he started to feel himself regain control and he slowly took in another deep breath before slowly letting it out and opening his eyes.

Before him, in a crouched position, was a man with short dark hair and deep brown eyes. He was dressed in a well cut suit and a smile lit his young face.

"Hi there."

"Hey, thanks." John let himself fall onto the floor, his back braced against the wall.

"No problem. How you feeling?" The man asked standing fully.

"Exhausted." And confused, but he didn't say that out loud.

"Panic attacks do that." The man held a hand out and John took it. As he was pulled to his feet the man placed his other hand to John's arm, steadying him. "Easy."

"Yeah...thanks again."

"No problem. You have someone staying here?"

"Yeah, he's...lucky to still be here."

"Well remember to take care of you as well." The man let go of him and John took a step back. "Well got to go, see you around John."

"Yeah, thanks again."

Turning he made his way back towards the ward, he could get another coffee later. Right now he just needed to get back to Sherlock, needed to make sure he was okay, still breathing, still asleep.

It wouldn't be till much later that he realised that he never gave the man that had helped him his name, so how the hell did he know it.


	10. Chapter 10

The bandages came off easily, layer by layer the nurse removed the white fabric. This would be the first time he got to see the wound. He had been told about it, could feel it, but had never seen it.

"Sherlock are you sure about this?" asked John, for the fourth time that morning.

"John, it is a part of me...it is me, I want to see the damage done."

"I understand that; I really do..." John's hand reached out to stop the nurse. "The damage was extensive, you lost muscle as well as skin. Doctor Ansari did a brilliant job at saving you, at making sure your organs heal perfectly, that they won’t fall out...but he is no plastic surgeon, his stitches are perfect, but you will have a scar, a big one."

"That doesn't bother me John...does it you?" Sherlock asked, trying hard to keep his voice steady.

John stood up straighter then very suddenly pulled off his jumper, then his t-shirt.

Sherlock’s eyes didn’t know what to look at first, the dusting of golden hair? The flat tones stomach? The broad shoulders? The amazing spider web scar on his left shoulder? In the end he let his eyes just look into John's.

"Do you find anything of me unappealing?" John asked, standing up straight, his eyes hard and defensive.

"No." answered Sherlock breathlessly.

"Not even this?" John asked indicating his scar.

"No... that is...fascinating." John's lips quirked slightly but didn’t turn into a full blown smile.

"I've seen your wound Sherlock; I've also see men react to their own injuries when they see them for the first time. I just want you to be totally sure."

Sherlock reached out taking hold of John's hand and pulling him closer. Instantly John's scent assaulted Sherlock’s senses causing his heart to beat faster which then caused his heart monitor to beep causing John and the nurse to look up at the screen.

Sherlock felt himself blushing as the nurse smiled and John looked back at him with a glint in his eye.

“When can the monitors come off?” He asked as John pulled his blue t-shirt back on.

“Not until you’re more stable.” John answered before stepping around the bed. “Can I take over?” He asks the nurse, who nods stepping back as John puts on some gloves.

“So it’s only a few more layers, no bleeding seen so far so that’s a good thing.” Sherlock watches as John peels back another layer then moves to watch John’s face.

Sherlock knew he had fallen the moment he had seen John on that train, his mind had raced with a million different ways for him to go and talk to him, to get a chance to know him. He never once thought that he would end up in hospital with John looking after him, being there for him, let alone kissing him.

“Okay, this might pull a little, your wound is clean but it still weeping slightly.” John warned as he started to take off the last layer.

Sherlock looked down as the last layer slowly peeled back and he got a look at his body for the first time since the explosion.

“Oh.” Sherlock breathed out as he looked over the damage done. The scar he had been expecting to see had been a simple one, big, but just a long line. However, what he saw was a long branch, going from under his ribs on the left, ending at his right hip and it had many smaller branches coming from it. The muscle mass missing was evident by the dip in his flat stomach and the bruising was extensive, covering most of his lower body.

“Sherlock?” John had removed a glove, allowing him to place a hand on Sherlock’s face. “Hey, look at me.”

Sherlock forced himself to look up. John was looking at him with concern but he had a small smile on his lips and his eyes sparkled just as they always did when he had Sherlock’s full attention.

“I wasn’t expecting that.”

“I know. I tried to warn you.” John’s thumb ran over his cheek. “Just breath for me okay.”

“Okay.” Warm lips kissed his temple then John pulled on another glove and started to clean, then redress the wound.

As John worked Sherlock let his head fall back against the pillow. He concentrated on his breathing, letting the air fill his lungs fully before letting it out again, doing this over and over, feeling the air enter his blood, traveling to his brain and clearing the cobwebs slightly.

Closing his eyes, he found himself in the halls of his palace, John stood before him with his top off.

Laughing slightly, he rolled his eyes and threw a black jumper at Mind John. “Cover up.”

“Nothing to do with me.” John said with a smile as he pulled the jumper on.

“I’m sure.” He responded as he looked around then stopped as he looked down a darkened hall. “The explosion?”

“Yeah, all the information you need to work out how it happened, even who did it.”

Sherlock frowned. “I have all that?”

“Course you do. Between you and Mycroft’s CCTV footage you will work it out.”

“Right.” He turned to John. “I hate that you know more than me.”

"I only know what you know, it's just, I have a greater access than you do."

"Why?"

"No idea." John took Sherlock’s hand and led him down the hall. "Come on."

.~.~.~.~.

John finished sort the dressing and looked up to find Sherlock with his eyes closed.

"Has he gone back to sleep?" The nurse asked as she reappear with fresh clothing and bedding.

"I don’t think so." John gently ran a finger down the side of Sherlock’s face before leaning down and placing a kiss to soft lips. "He's locked himself away. Probably a good thing because we have to move him."

"Yeah, did you want to dress him?"

“Sure.” Together, John and the nurse went about undressing Sherlock, giving him a wash before dressing him and then changing the bed covers. It took a while, Sherlock was all arms and legs, and though light, it wasn’t the easiest job to move him without over aggravating his injuries. John was just glad the man had locked himself in his mind palace, it allowed them to do so much without fear of causing him too much discomfort.

“How does he do that?” The nurse asked as they gently led Sherlock back down and pulled the covers up over him.

“I’m not sure, I just know those with minds like him have a way of saving everything they learn. He is doing something right now, it’s just all happening in his mind. I guess when he is in there he has no sense of his physical form.” He paused and frowned. “That is a bit worrying.”

“Yeah, but for now, if it helps with his pain it is a good thing.”

“I guess.” John stared at Sherlock for a moment then turned to the nurse. “Thanks for your help.”

The nurse smiled. “It’s my job doctor Watson, really I should be thanking you.”

“No, don’t, I would do anything to help him.”

“I know, we all know. Just be sure to take care of you as well.”

John nodded and then let the nurse leave with all the dirty bandages, clothing and bedding.

Sitting he ran his fingers through his hair, ruffling it slightly before patting it all back down again. He was tired, he hadn’t slept in a bed for a while, his back hurt, his shoulder hurt, his leg even gave a twinge of pain, something he was trying very hard to ignore, but was failing at.

He thought back to his panic attack earlier, trying to place the cause, the reasoning behind it. He knew he had taken on a lot when he had agreed to oversee Sherlock’s care, something he had been willing to do, something he needed to do. But now thing had progressed between them, John had fallen hard for the man, and because of that, Sherlock’s fear at John leaving him, just to get a coffee had triggered something in John; he was just as afraid to leave Sherlock. That was why he had panicked, why he had to get back to Sherlock straight away and why he slept in chair not really built for sleep rather than taking the bed that was offered to him every night.

Closing his eyes, he took in a deep breath before a yawn over took him. Stretching through it he felt his body sag as it begged him for rest, for real sleep before opening his eyes and looking at the man still locked away in his mind palace.

Standing he moved himself around Sherlock’s IV’S before lowering the side of the bed and then gently moving to lay next to Sherlock’s long frame. Getting himself as comfortable as possible he led his head down next to Sherlock’s, his forehead resting against soft curls. He let himself relax before his eyes closed and within minutes he fell asleep.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> small bridge chapter, enjoy.

John stood leaning hard against his cane, yet not really taking the weight from his leg, his blue eyes watched as people got off the train, the relief clearly shown on his face a seats became free and he was able to finally sit. As he turned to finally face Sherlock, Sherlock felt his breath catch as those amazing blue eyes fell on him, looked straight at him and he just couldn’t help it, he smiled, which in turned cause John to smile back.

“Wait, I wasn’t looking at you when you first saw me.” Sherlock said and the images paused. Walking up to himself he saw the truth of his smile, the light in his eyes as he looked at John. Shaking his head at himself he turned the other way. “I was looking that way first. I had noticed you before, but then something caused me to turn the other way, to look away from you, just for a moment.”

As he stared down the other way, he growled at the darkness. He couldn’t remember.

“Okay, so play it back again, see if you can work it out.” Mind John said as he sat next to the other John.

Turning back to himself, Sherlock ran the memory backward, only himself and Mind John not moving. He let the memory run right to the moment before he stepped onto the train. As the world went dark he stopped it and let it play forward once again.

Watching himself step onto the train, the world around him brightened once again, adding people, detail, like the posters on the walls, the graffiti on the doors and the tatty covered seats. The people he had deduced stood out more than those he hadn’t, but they still had more substance, like the lady stood before him, long blond hair, pale skin, black trousers, red top, she had been boring and so Sherlock had simple ignored her, but still her basic features stood out.

But the man next to her had been interesting at first, a banker, dressed in a suit that looked immaculate, expensive, yet it was a fake Armani, his shoes, though well looked after were cheap and his hair was clearly dyed. He was stressing over an over sea’s account and was emailing on his three-year-old blackberry. He was low level banker, working his way up, he had money, but he saved everything he could to help pay for his mother’s rehab clinic. A banker with a heart, he had revaluated his interest to boring and moved onto the next person.

That was when he had seen John, stood proudly yet clearly uncomfortable and fed up with the world around him. But there had been something about him that had caught Sherlock’s interest.

“No, don’t think on me.” Mind John said as he stood and walked towards Sherlock. “You are ignoring me right now because you need to think about what had caught your attention.”

“Right.” Sherlock nodded and watched himself once again as he stared at John as people flooded off at the next station. His view of John was obscured for a moment and then he saw him. A man with a dark grey hoody and a backpack. Sherlock had followed him as he had walked pass him and headed down to the end of the cab. Something about him was off, he was on edge, nervous, yet resigned as though nothing he could do would change anything. As the man stopped at the end of the cab he continued to watch until he felt eyes on him and that was when he had turned back to John.

“Okay stop, go back to the guy in the hoody.” Mind John said as he turned Sherlock back to the man that had caught his attention. “What was so interesting about him?”

Sherlock allowed himself to stare at the man, trying to work it out.

“He seemed so determined and yet so resigned to whatever was going on that it just confused me.”

“Was he the guy with the bomb?” Mind John asked.

“No…I don’t think he was.” Shifting his attention from the man he looked around him, at the people around him, then paused as a grey suit flashed through the window on the door that led to the next cab, then dark eyes looked straight at him.

“Him.” He breathed out then his eyes opened at he left his mind palace.

Gasping slightly, he frowned at the darkness of the room, then at the feeling of something pressed up against him. Turning he paused as he looked at John, fast asleep next to him, his breathing slow and steady. Smiling he gently lifted a hand and ran it over John’s face, stubble catching the pads of his fingers as he reached John’s chin. Sherlock still couldn’t believe that he was there with him, helping him, sleeping cuddled up next to him.

Closing his eyes, he pressed a kiss to John’s forehead and just let himself breath in the other man, letting his presence soothe him, even as he worked through what he had just remembered.

He had found the bomber, but the man had gotten off the train at that last stop, he had planted the bomb on the cab next to his, yet the explosion was that powerful it had reach him. But he couldn’t place the man’s face, his eyes, but he was sure he knew him, sure he had seen him before.

“Go to sleep Sherlock.” John suddenly said as he shifted slightly, careful not to jolt Sherlock too much before settling again with his face pressed up against Sherlock’s neck.

Smiling Sherlock kissed the top of John’s head. “John, do you remember a man on the train, in the next cab. Grey suit, dark eyes.”

“Sherlock, all I saw on that train was you” John whispered against his neck causing a shiver to run through Sherlock’s body.

“Right.” Sherlock was able to answer even as he tried to control his bodies reaction to having John so close to him. “John.”

“Humm?”

Sherlock paused then shook his head. “Nothing, go back to sleep.”

“K, you too.” John shifted again this time wrapping a hand around Sherlock’s arm, again making sure not to cause any discomfort but clearly wanting to be close.

They led there silently for a time before John whispered three words that caused warmth to spread throughout Sherlock’s body, words he had only ever heard from his parents, words no other had ever muttered to him.

“I love you.” John said, his grip tightening before he fell back to sleep.

Sherlock felt tears sting his eyes as he turned to bury his face in soft blond hair. “I love you.”


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I think this will need editing but I'm an impatient author so here you go ;)

"Just breathe. When you're ready for the next part just let me know." John had hold of Sherlock’s arms, his grip light yet reassuring as Sherlock concentrated on his breathing. 

It had been a week since John had fallen asleep next Sherlock for the first time, and doctor Ansari had told them just that morning that he wishes for Sherlock to start moving around. So for today, Sherlock was taking a small walk to the chair right next to his bed.

John watched as Sherlock pulled his strength together ready for the next step. It had taken a lot just to get him sitting, to swing his legs over the side of the bed and to just sit there, up right, for the first time in three weeks.

Lifting a hand John moves it to Sherlock’s hair as Sherlock leans his forehead against John's chest.

"Are you okay? " John asks as he gently untangles a few curls and puts them back in place.

"Dizzy." Sherlock gets out as his hands find John's waist, his fingers tightening around the fabric of John's shirt.

"That's normal, being led down for so long is not good, and the blood rushing back down into your body can feel odd."

Sherlock finally lifts his head, his eyes glazed slightly as he looks up at John.

"Hi there."

"I can't do this."

"Okay, but the lap top is over there, waiting for you." John indicated the small table next to the chair, a lap top set up and ready to go.

Sherlock eyed it for a moment, John knowing that he was going through all the pros and cons of moving.

John had refused to allow Sherlock access to a computer, even a smart phone was off limits, while he was bed bound.

"I know you want to use it, so all we need for you to do is stand, take all of three steps and it is all yours till you need to get back in the bed."

When Sherlock looked back up at he smiled his hand moving from his hair to his face.

"You can do this, your body will rebel it with shout and scream and through a tantrum worthy of any two-year-old. But when you are sat down it will end and you will have internet access."

"I hate you." Sherlock only half joked.

"I know." John smiles placing a small kiss to Sherlock’s temple. "Now, are you ready?"

Sherlock nodded then on the count of three he pushed off the bed as John helped him.

John winced at the sound Sherlock tried to hold back as he finally stood, not reaching his full height as his body had him curl slightly into himself, protecting the area damaged as much as possible. 

"Okay good, its three steps just three." Sherlock's grip tightened on him as they slowly took the first step then the next before finally reaching the chair.

"Right, nice and slow Sherlock." And that is what they do. John slowly lowers Sherlock into the chair as Sherlock moves his hands to John's shoulders, gripping him tightly as he clenches his teeth and sits.

Once settled John helps Sherlock, with pillows, to getting into a position he is comfortable with before crouching down before him.

"How’s that?" John asks folding Sherlock’s dressing gown neatly over long legs.

"Different." Sherlock breaths as he settles and looks about. "Good. It is surprising how good it feels o been out of bed."

"Yeah, it is a pretty good feeling." Standing John moves the small table closer to Sherlock so he can easily reach the computer before moving all the IV bags and monitors so he could re-hook Sherlock to everything.

"Do i have to have the heart and oxygen?" Sherlock asks as he types away at the computer.

"Yes, especially the heart one. Being up like this can cause problems and so you need to be watched all the more."

Sherlock sighed but allowed John to reattach the leads, moving his arms as commanded then sitting back and still as John put his nasal cannula back on. Once John was finished he found himself staring down at Sherlock who was just watching him intently.

"What?"

"Kiss me." Sherlock said as his hand reached up to tug on the collar of John's shirt. 

Smiling John allowed himself to be pulled down, his hands gripping the arms of the chair as Sherlock lent up and closed the distance between them.

Sherlock’s lips were soft, slow and oh so addictive as he started to kiss John, John of course kissed back but allowed Sherlock to lead, to have control.

It was a perfectly slow kiss that asked for nothing more, it just simply was what it needed to be.

When Sherlock pulled back he was breathing hard and fell back against the chair with a smile.

"I never knew how exhusting walking and kissing could be." He breathed out as he just caught his breath.

John moved a curl from in front of Sherlock’s eyes before placing a kiss to his forehead.

"Mycroft will be here in an hour, just relax okay?"

"K."

Smiling, John pushed up from his position before he started to walking around the room, tidying as he went. They had both been living in the room now on a full time basis since Sherlock had woken. John refused to leave and Sherlock hated it whenever John even so much as talked about leaving. So when Sherlock spoke again John paused as he picked up a jumper and slowly turned to Sherlock.

"What was that?"

"Why make me repeat myself John."

"You just said I should go home for a bit, I just wanted to make sure you really said that."

"Yes I really said that." 

"Okay...well I could do with fresh clothes and a decent shower-"

"As well as decent sleep."

John frowned.

"Sherlock, the last time I left, or at least tried to leave you wouldn't let me."

"I'm well aware of that John."

"I had a panic attack." John said, knowing this was the first time he admitted that that.

"What?" John smiled, he couldn't help it. Not after what Sherlock had said after John had said the same thing not two minutes ago.

"I...well you fell asleep, Mycroft was here and so I went for my coffee. I only got as far as the main hall when I had a full blown panic attack."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"I just did."

"Before, why now."

"You don’t need my problems Sherlock. You need to focus on yourself, not me."

"John, you are all I think about. Even before I knew who you were you were all I could really remember."

"What do you mean?"

"I was trapped, you led me out, well the you in here." Sherlock tapped his head. "You are also helping me with a case."

John was confused and it must have been written all over his face because Sherlock sighed before he carried on.

"I've been trying to work out who planted the bomb, it was why Mycroft is coming. He has the tapes."

"Right. But how I'm in already helping?"

"I seem to have developed a you, inside my mind, that is helping to piece things together."

"Okay...that’s a bit...flattering." John smiled as Sherlock tilted his head at him.

"Really?"

"Well yeah. So not only am I helping you here, I'm also a huge help when it comes to you thinking?"

"Correct. You seem to ground me. Help me think, you also distract me from you, which is slightly odd but it the truth."

John finished picking up the rest of his clothes and just stuffed them into his bag.

"Okay, so you think you will be okay without me for a while?"

"Yes John." Sherlock nodded then caught John's eyes. "Will you?"

And there was the question John had been waiting for. Could he leave Sherlock?

The last time he tried it had been almost traumatising for him, he had felt instantly adrift, lost, and useless. How and why that had translated to a panic attack was still something he needed to look at, to understand. But his main concern had been Sherlock so he had pushed it aside, where it been waiting to be looked at ever since.

"John?"

"I'll be fine." John said with a nod, his answer more for himself than Sherlock.

"Okay, so when Mycroft gets here you can go home, sleep, shower whatever you want." Sherlock said as he pulls the laptop back to himself.

John watched him as he himself sat on the bed. John allowed himself to drink in the sight of Sherlock up, sitting, looking tired yet so relaxed and happy to be out of the bed. He has been able to wash Sherlock’s hair the day before, something Sherlock had said he hated but John had seen the content look on his face as John rubbed shampoo into his hair then rinsed it clean before applying the conditioner Sherlock insisted upon. So today his hair shone, it was a bit wild, but still looked good, and the man’s eyes were alight with something as he worked on whatever was on the screen before him. 

"You're staring John."

"Yeah, can’t help it." John said with a shrug as Sherlock looked at him a small smile on his lips.

"You're the most ridiculous man." Sherlock shook his head as he spoke, still smiling.

"You just work this out now? Three weeks of staying with a man I don’t even know and you only just come to the realisation that I am ridiculous. Seriously Sherlock I thought you were a genius or something, but now I'm not so sure."

Sherlock was looking at him in such a way that John just laughed.

"Yes I am a ridiculous man, I'm a doctor who went to war, I run towards danger not away from it and you Sherlock scream danger and my god am I addict to it all ready."

"So that is all you stay for? The danger?" Sherlock’s tone had changed, become cold, calculating and John knew his next words would have to be spoken carefully.

"Danger follows you, it shrouds you and i see that, I want that. But now it is not why I stay, it's not even why I had to find you after the explosion. I stay because in less than five seconds I knew I had found what I have always been searching for."

"And what was that?"

"You. You, the man who is undoubtedly going to be the love of my life. You, the missing part of me that I had no idea had been missing till I found it. You, the man that caused me to live once again. You, just you Sherlock." Getting up from the bed he moves the table with the laptop allowing him to kneel before Sherlock. This was the first time Sherlock would have to look down at John and for John to look up, but it would not be the last, after all Sherlock was so much taller than John.

"I love you. Did you know that?" John whispered.

"Yes, you told me." Sherlock admitted as he shifted in his seat slightly so he could open his legs, allowing John shuffle forward, to get closer so that Sherlock could touch him without moving forward.

"Did I now?"

"Yes, the first night you slept in the bed."

"Right." John nodded, though didn’t remember this.

"I... I responded." 

"What did you say?" 

"I love you."

John smiled brightly. Reaching out he ran his hands up Sherlock’s arms before leaning his head up and gently placing a kiss to the corner of Sherlock’s mouth.

"Danger is addictive to me, but you Sherlock Holmes outweigh even the most dangerous of situations."

"Good." The kiss that followed was so full of emotion, a story of the feelings running through the two men, a tale of everything they had been through and of everything still to come.

Breaking apart, John lent his forehead to Sherlock’s.

"Please don’t ever doubt me Sherlock."

"I... forgive me? I just never found myself being...wanted like this before."

"Of course i will, and anyone who cannot see you, cannot accept you are idiots."

"Agreed."

Closing his eyes John just lent into Sherlock, allowing the other man to run his hands through his hair, to grip at his clothes, to run his face over John’s, to brush his lips over his jaw, to his neck, till Sherlock rested his head on John's shoulder.

"Don’t leave." Sherlock whispered.

"I won’t. I'll ask Mycroft to send someone to pick something up."

"Good...I thought I could do it, let you go. I'm sorry."

"Don’t be sorry. I don’t think I would have gotten very far before turning back."

"We leave together."

"Yes."

"Good."


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N**

**okay so not a chapter but omg! Woke up this morning to find i now have 200 kudos for this story and I just wanted to say Thank You!**

**Thank you for every Kudo, comment, bookmark, and subscribe!**

**You guys have made writing this story all the more because you have all been so supportive and patient!**

**So Thank You Thank You Thank You!!!!!**


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :D Happy 200 plus Kudos! Love you guys.
> 
> However, don't hate me!

Mycroft arrived and John lost Sherlock’s attention as his brother handed over the USB holding the tapes from the explosion.

“I have from an hour before the explosion to just after they got you off the train.” Mycroft informed Sherlock as he sat on the only other spare chair in the room, leaving John to sit back on the bed.

“Why?”

“Because I think I know who you are after, I just need to confirm it.”

John watched Sherlock load the files then watch. He allowed himself to study the man, to take in his appearance, his posture, his pain level. Sherlock was in serious pain, he hid it well, but John had learnt to see it, to find the tells, and one such tell was the way Sherlock kept clenching his fists.

Sighing John got up off the bed and made his way to the unit that dispensed the painkiller they had been using and frowned finding it turned up to the full amount.

“Sherlock?” He asked turning to look down at the man but his eyes caught the computer screen as it showed people getting on and off the train, one man in particular caught his attention.

“I know him.” He blurted causing both the Holmes brothers to turn to him.

Sherlock stopped the recording as he looked up at John.

“Who?” He asked with a frown.

“Him.” John leant down and pointed to a man just getting on the train, he was well dressed his hair dark, a mobile in his hand.

“How?”

“He was here. Was he in the explosion?” John watches as Sherlock turns the screen to his brother pointing out the man.

“This is him isn’t it?” Sherlock asks.

“We believe so.” Mycroft nodded. “He gets off the train as you get on it in a few stops time.”

John looked between the two brothers. “Wait, he planted the bomb.”

“That is what we suspect.” Mycroft confirmed.

“I saw him, just as he got off. He was on the cab next to ours and he looked right at me as he exited.”

“Do you know him?” John asked, concern in his voice.

“No, but I think I know who he is.”

“Okay, so the explosion, was it just coincidence that you were on the train or was the bomb…did he do this to get to you?” John found himself suddenly on guard. This man, the man the brothers thought had planted the bomb had been here, just down the hall, he had helped John.

“I…I think so. You see I have an enemy of sorts.”

“Okay, explain.” John ordered as he crossed his arms.

“I work with the police, on cases, I help them when they are out of their depth, which just happens to be always. Anyway, I also take on private cases, they pay the bills but they are boring, sometimes not even worth my time. But as I said they pay the bills.” Sherlock looks at the screen, at the man. “About two months ago I was contacted by someone that had, for a lack of a better term, started a game. He left me clues to cases and I solved them in the time frame he gave me.”

“Right, so what happened?”

“I messed up. People died, in an explosion.”

“What explosion?” John asked having not heard of one.

“The one we were involved in.”

“Oh god.”

“I was on the train because I was led there. I believed I was tracking down a murder, I now believe that to be a false trail, just away to get me on the train.”

John tried to process this, to wrap his head around it. He really had chosen a man that attracted danger, he just never realised just how dangerous.

“Do you want to run yet?” Sherlock’s voice cut through his thoughts causing him to look down at him

“Hell no.” John said with a smile.

“Good. Now when did you see him?”

“A week ago, when I have my panic attack. He…well I guess he helped me.”

“Helped you?”

“Yeah, calmed me down, helped me get my breathing back under control.”

“Did you tell him you were with me?”

“No, just that I knew someone here.”

“Okay, that’s good.”

“No, he knows.” Mycroft interjected.

“How do you know?” Sherlock asks looking at his brother.

“Go to the last ten minutes.”

John lent over the back of Sherlock’s chair as he did as his brother instructed. When it go to the last ten minutes the image paused then started up once again.

John lent away. “Dear god.” He muttered as he took in the image of the wrecked train, bodies led all around and him knelt over Sherlock.

“Look in the top right.” Mycroft instructed and John tore his eyes away from himself and Sherlock just as the first paramedic crew came on board.

“I don’t remember any of this.” Sherlock suddenly said. John looked at him noting that Sherlock was watching the two of them. Leaning forward he stopped the video and pushed the table away, Sherlock didn’t even protest.

“Okay, Sherlock, look at me.” John said as he crouched down to the side of the man who was looking at nothing. “Sherlock, you need to look at me.”

“John?” Mycroft asked from behind him.

“I didn’t even think of this happening.” John said as he gently took Sherlock’s hand in his own.

“What?”

“The images triggering a memory.” John almost whispered. “Mycroft you need to get doctor Ansari.”

“What’s going on John?”

“Sherlock has become immune to his current pain killer, I only just noticed before we got talking about the man in the video.”

“Right.” Mycroft stood. “What else.”

“I think he may be having a flash back.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning that at any moment he could wake up and the pain he has been so good at controlling will wake with a vengeance.”

John heard Mycroft swear and leave the room instantly.

“Okay Sherlock, if you can hear me, I’m right here.” He got no response. Cursing he moved to kneel right in front of Sherlock, his hands gently resting on Sherlock’s knees. Two things could happen when Sherlock finally woke. One he would pass out; this would be the preferred option. Or two he was going to lose himself to the pain, and that was not something John wanted to happen, not again.

“John?” Doctor Ansari asked as he walked through the door.

“Sherlock is having a flash back of the explosion.” He stated simply.

“Okay, we need to get him back on the bed.”

“I’m worried that would set him off, but the more pressing matter is he is immune to his pain killers.”

“Damn that man. I told him to inform me if this were to happen.” The doctor left without another word.

“What else can they give him?” Mycroft asked.

“I don’t know. But I have a feeling they might just sedat…Shit.” John watched Sherlock come back.

It started slowly, the crystal eyes cleared, they focused on the room around him then on John. What colour Sherlock had gained started to drain from his face, leaving him once again grey and sickly looking.

“Just breathe.” John said as Sherlock’s hands wrapped around his wrist.

“John.” Sherlock breathed out as his whole body started to shake.

“Breathe Sherlock. You need to breath.”

Sherlock’s breathing became erratic and then alarms started to sound as his heart rate accelerated and his oxygen intake decreased.

“Sherlock Breathe!” John almost shouted, but it was to no avail. Sherlock was lost.

 .~.~.~.~.

Waking up from reliving the explosion was surreal. Once moment he was led on his back, John pressing down hard on his stomach, the next he was sat up with John knelt before him, yet the pain was exactly the same. It was like it really had all happened again. His whole body shook as he tried to do as John ordered, but he couldn’t.

_Make it stop, make it stop, please, please…. John…. MAKE IT STOP!_

“I’ve got you.” John’s voice whispered in his ear. The pain had gone and he was led in his bed at Bakerstreet, his head cushioned on John’s chest, with John’s arms wrapped warm and securely around him. “I’ve got you.”

Closing his eyes, he found himself bowering into John a long contented sigh escaping his lips.

“What happened?” John asked as he gently ran a hand up and down Sherlock’s back.

“I remembered.”

“Ah. Fair enough.” John kissed the top of his head then just led there, running his hand over Sherlock, as Sherlock just relaxed into him.

“I’m stuck again.” Sherlock suddenly realised without even looking about.

“Yep.” John confirmed as he started to wiggle about, causing Sherlock to open his eyes and move so that the two of them could lay facing each other.

“You should have told John about the pain meds.”

“Maybe.”

“No, no maybe, you should have. If you had this wouldn’t have happened.” John reached out and moved a few wayward curls before running his finger over Sherlock’s lower lip. “Now, because you were being your normal stubborn self, you are trapped once again.”

“Fine, I was stupid.”

“Yes, now be sure to apologise to John when you wake. He will be mad at you.”

Sherlock smiled, then he frowned.

“Wait.”

“What?” John asked as Sherlock sat up and looked around before picking up the control to the TV, the TV normally kept in the living room. Turning it on the video Mycroft had brought started to play.

“Ah, yes. Well I guess that’s him.”

“Yeah, and he is here, in the hospital.” Sherlock nodded.

“No, he was here. There has been no sign of him since John saw him.”

“He’s here.”

“Okay, let say that he is. What are you going to do about it?” John came to kneel behind him, wrapping his arms around Sherlock’s shoulder and resting his head atop of Sherlock’s curls. “You need to get yourself out of here first.”

“John.”

“Yeah?”

“No…John!”


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!!!!!!!
> 
> So umm excuses....I have had horrendous writers block, I finished Loud and Clear and then nothing, well not nothing, but not a lot and this story got stuck! So this chapter, I hope, will move it on and hopefully I can get it finished.
> 
> So this is to everyone that has waited so patiently for this update, I am sorry to keep you waiting for so long, I hope this makes up for it, or if not then the hopefully the next chapter will ;)
> 
> So, enjoy x x

John gently placed the hand he held onto the bed and slowly sat back and stretched out his back, lifting his arms up into the air to stretch them also.

Sherlock had been out for the last sixteen hours, the flashback a step too far for his already fragile body sending him back into a coma, a coma that John hoped wouldn't last as long as the last one.

In the time since they had put Sherlock back onto the bed John had dozed for about an hour. But other than that he had been awake, holding Sherlock's hand, brushing his hair, giving him a bed bath as well as assisting with changing all bandages and assessing his wounds, which were healing but taking their time in doing so.

Sighing as he lowered his arms he looked over at the man in the bed then stood and walked to the window to give his legs a much needed stretch as well.

“John?” Mary's voice said as she walked in seeing him stood at the dark window.

“No change.” John said as he turned to face the woman that had become Sherlock's primary nurse, with Stacy taking over on Mary's days off. “He hasn't had any reaction to pain or to speech.”

“You're worried.”

“Of course I am.” John almost shouted. Mary's eyes reacted, sending a wave of guilt through John that caused him to lean against the wall, tilting his head back and hitting it against the wall.

“Sorry.” He whispered, but loud enough for her to hear.

“It's okay.” She said gently as she started to take Sherlock's stats.

“No it's not. I shouldn't have-”

“John, you haven't slept properly in the last thirty-six hours, you have hardly eaten and you're differently running on tea alone.”

“I'm not taking anything to sleep, he might wake up.”

“And if he does I will wake you also.”

“No.”

“Okay, just...think on it, okay?”

“Sure,” he muttered lowering his head and watched as Mary shone a light into both Sherlock's eyes.

“Pupil reaction good, oxygen levels good, everything is good.”

“I know.” John pushed away from the wall, walked to his chair and sat down with a grunt. “So why hasn't he woken up?”

Mary looks at him with with an eyebrow raised and a small smile on her lips. “Really? You don't know?”

John frowns at her, “what?”

“He's stuck, the same as before. Or he is so deep in that mind of his that he just can not be roused.”

John continues to frown then looks at Sherlock and smiles.

“Of course he is.”

“He's not in a coma, we know this from before, from when you pointed it out.”

John laughed and shook his head. “I really do need to sleep.”

“Yes, you do.”

“Fine, give me the pills, small dose and wake me if he wakes.”

“Sure, I'll be right back.” Mary walked pass him, squeezing his shoulder as she did so. “ It will be fine John.”

“I know.” He said placing his hand over hers. “Thank you.”

With that she left leaving John with Sherlock once again.

“You git.” John muttered as he shifted in his seat and picked up the hand he had put down early. “You're a pain, why the hell do you scare me like this?” Bring the hand to his lips he gently runs his lips over the knuckles revelling in the warmth of the skin, the feel of it against his lips and as he closed his eyes leaning he face more against the hand he breathed in Sherlock's scent and just lost himself for a second.

“Please wake up.” He whispers as he kisses the knuckles. “I miss you.”

“John...”

John laughs, looking up at Sherlock's opened eyes. “You utter prat!”

“Moriarty.”

“Not here.”

“Is...he...oh.” Sherlock's eyes widen suddenly causing John to jump up and switch on the pain meds, the meds that were switched off while Sherlock was out and unable to say if they were working or not. Once he set the levels John turned to Sherlock and took the man's face in his hands.

“Breath, look at me and just breath.” Sherlock's hands came up grasping at John's arms, his fingers digging painfully into the muscle but John didn't care, he allowed Sherlock to do what he need to just get through this moment until the meds kicked in.

Sherlock's eyes held Johns allowing John to watch as tears of pain welled up causing him to gently run his thumbs over Sherlock's cheeks and whisper reassuring words.

“John?” Mary walked back in, but John kept his eyes on Sherlock.

“He's suffering, just give us a moment to get through this.”

“Should I call Mycroft?”

“Yes.” Sherlock gasped causing the little colour he had to drain from his skin. “Need him...Moriarty.”

“Sherlock.” John said causing Sherlock's eyes to return to him. “Breath, please, just concentrate on breathing.”

“Hurts.”

“I know, which is why I need you just to breath.” John wanted nothing more in that moment than to lean down and kiss him, but he knew it wouldn't help right now so he resisted.

After another half an hour Sherlock started to feel the affects of the pain killers, something made evident as the man's body started to relax and colour slowly returned to his cheeks. By the time he was able to talk without gasping Mycroft had appeared and was sitting in John's chair.

“Okay?” John asked, running his fingers through sweat soaked curls.

“Yes.” Sherlock whispered, his hands moving from John's arms to John's face pulling him down till their foreheads pressed together. Smiling, John pressed a small kiss to Sherlock's lips before pulling back and turning to the elder Holmes brother.

“Well?” John asked.

“Moriarty is a ghost, we have no trace what so ever on him and I have used every resource to find him.”

“He's here.” Sherlock said quietly, his pain, though eased still causing problems when breathing and so he kept his voice small as well as talking pointedly rather than using his usual flare.

“No Sherlock, he was here-”

“No!” Sherlock said loudly causing him to wince. “He's here, staying close.”

“Then why hasn't he made a move already?” John asked looking down at him.

Sherlock looked up at him with a look that said 'think John' and nothing else.

“Because I've been here.”

“Yes.” Both Holmes say together.

“You have kept him at bay thus far, but that may not last much longer.” Mycroft says as he picks up his bag and pulls out a file.

“Why not?” John asks.

“I may not have been able to find this Moriarty, I have however been able to find out quiet a bit about him.” Mycroft held out the file to John, which he took and started to glance over what was within.

“Moriarty has played a huge role on many issues we have been unable to stop or even know about until it has been done. He is relentless in what ever he works on and his attention seems to have landed solely on Sherlock.”

“Why?” John asked, turning a page to a murder scene and quickly turning to the next.

“I challenge him.” Sherlock answered.

“Yes.” Mycroft says. “He seems to like toying with you.”

“Explain.” John says closing the file to look at the brothers.

“Before the train, I was investigating a murder, before that a bombing, and before that a high value robbery, I deemed that all of these had some sort of link and that link is Moriarty.” Sherlock took in a breath when he was done, a wince again on his face, his hands grasping at the covers over his stomach.

“How did you guess the link?” John asked at which Sherlock looked to Mycroft.

“You know don't you?” Sherlock asked.

“About the phone?” Mycroft pulled a phone from his case, a phone in a pink case. “Yes, I know.”

“And?”

“It can not be traced.”

“Of course not.” Sherlock hissed, then shifted, his head pushing back against the pillow. “John.”

John turned up the level on the pain meds and waited, his hand grasping Sherlock's. “Just breath for a minute.” John instructed.

“Sherlock, why are you so sure he is in the hospital.”

“Waiting.” Sherlock was able to say as his eyes closed. “He is waiting for John to leave.”

“Not happening.” John says squeezing Sherlock's hand.

“Well it might have to.” Mycroft says as he starts to tap away on his phone.

“Nope, not happening.” John shook his head.

“John-”

“I am not going to allow you to use yourself as bait Sherlock!”

“It might be the only way to draw him out.” Mycroft says.

“No!”

The silence that follows is thick, uncomfortable, broken only as Mary once again enters. She seems to feel the tense nature of the room as she goes about checking Sherlock over in silence, her voice quiet when she speaks to Sherlock asking him about his pain, and if there was anything more that she need to know to which Sherlock had simply said that he was tired.

John watched her as she looked to Mycroft then to John and John knew what was coming.

“I think it best if Sherlock is left to rest, fighting pain is exhausting and he needs all his strength to recover.”

“Of course.” Mycroft says, picking up his bag and standing. “John, we will sort this out tomorrow.”

“There is nothing to sort Mycroft, I will not leave him.” John says quietly.

“Very well.” Mycroft turns to his brother, his hand taking Sherlock's for a second. “Rest well brother mine.”

“Thanks My, keep searching?”

“Of course.” Mycroft left without another word, his phone raising to his ear before he even left the room.

“Right.” Mary says looking at John. “No arguing. He needs to rest.”

“I promise.”

“Good. Sherlock, try and sleep, it will help.”

“I will.” With that Mary left leaving the two men alone.

“Do you need me to do anything?” John asked.

“Yes, get in this bed.”

John smiled and slowly worked his way into the bed until he had Sherlock resting against him, the man's long back against his chest and stomach. Gently running his fingers through Sherlock hair he kept pressing kisses to the top of Sherlock's head and smiled as he felt Sherlock melt into him.

“Try and sleep.”

“Humm...John.”

“No Sherlock.”

“Think about it.” Sherlock mumbled sleepily.

“It wont happen Sherlock, I wont leave just so some mad man can get to you.”

“Okay...John?”

“Humm?”

“Love you.”

“I know,” John placed another kiss to Sherlock's head. “I love you.”

Sherlock's body fully relaxed then, allowing John to know he had fallen asleep. Sighing he lent back allowing his own eyes to close, the weight of Sherlock against him giving him an added source of comfort that he hadn't realised he had been missing.

Thinking over what had been talked about, he felt himself tighten his grip on the man in his arms and then slowly ran through all possible options. There was no way he was leaving Sherlock, even if he was allowed in on the operation to catch the criminal mastermind that seemed to want Sherlock's attention. He would never be able to forgive himself if anything did happen while he was gone. So no, he wouldn't be leaving.

So what other options were there? He had no idea.

Letting out yet another sigh he allowed his body to grow heavy, and let his mind start to wonder till sleep finally took him as well.


End file.
